


The White Wolves

by ArthurtheGatekeeper



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Uses His Words, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier swears alot, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Anxiety, M/M, Panic Attacks, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Requited Unrequited Love, Wolf Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, and jaskier doesn't get it, brief violence to npc's, don't worry he gets lots of cuddles, post mountain apology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:34:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24288985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArthurtheGatekeeper/pseuds/ArthurtheGatekeeper
Summary: Jaskier has been doing fine after the mountain. Thank you very much. Then a white wolf rescues him one night from being mugged. A wolf he must conclude is none other than Geralt of Rivia.And then he runs into Geralt of Rivia with his child of surprise in tow. A man he can only conclude is a doppler sent to kidnap Ciri.What's the other explanation? That Geralt loves him and he's just made friends with some random white wolf? Absurd.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 194
Kudos: 580





	1. The White wolf

It had been three goddamn months since the mountain and Jaskier was doing fine.

The bars he had played at loved his new song and had paid him well. They had been thrilled to hear the tales he wove and were more than generous with the refreshments.   
He may have been tossed out of several of them after he’d rather viciously refused to play one song and let them all know in no uncertain terms where they could toss a coin if they ever met a certain Witcher. But he was fine. 

And his coin pouch may have emptied remarkably quickly after his performance ended at the end of the night. Perhaps there was a whole in the bag that needed mending. 

But he was doing fine.

He was. 

It just so happened that he’d not had the coin for a room tonight. And the lovely lady he’d hoped to go home with had. Well she had. She had _hmm’d_ and had not taken kindly to the _dialogue_ with which he’d responded. The noise had just been. Offensive.

So he’d decided to start the path to the next town that night. It didn’t hurt to get an early start to such tasks. The town hadn’t even been big enough for a stable. That he would have gladly slept in instead of in the ditch next to the road.

But the weather was still warm and he’d not forgotten his lute. He was fine.

He was.

He was roused by a knife pressed against the back of his neck and a heavy weight pressing him into the dirt he’d collapsed against. He could see a second silhouette in the dark riffling through his lute case. 

So maybe he wasn’t doing as well as he’d hoped. 

“Evening Gentlemen. Gentlemen? And ladies I suppose. It is rather dark and I’d hate to assume. I know that thievery is an equal opportunity profession. But as you may have gathered from my Lute I am simply a traveling bard. And a poor one at that. All I have is that and my meager savings which,” He twitched his hand against his waist where his coin pouch rested only to find it gone, “It seems you have already found. So might we consider putting the knife away and going our separate ways?”

The person above him shifted pressing more weight against his back forcing the air out of his lungs with a pained hiss. “Do you think we’re Stupid Bard? We saw you playing. You’ve got more than five fucking Orens.”

“Wait seriously? I only have five Orens left? Oh that explains the headache.” He’d hoped the pounding was due to his newest companions but it seemed he’d get to enjoy nursing a powerful hangover on the road. Again.

He really needed a better hobby.

The silhouette flipped his lute case over dumping its contents on the ground. His lute hit the ground with a painful sound. He couldn’t help the flinch that pressed the knife into the back of his neck. A small trickle of warmth ran down his neck.

“I swear that’s all I have! Look you can take everything else! Just don’t hurt my lute please!” He begged. A stream of pleading promises, desperate explanations and empty threats fell from his mouth.

“Shut Up!” The man at his back bashed the knife handle against his head. Jaskier decided to give that a try. If only because his mouth was full of dirt and his head was screaming at him. 

A deep growl froze all three of them.

Something massive barreled into the silhouette. She screamed.

A horrible ripping noise silenced her.

It was white and furred. Its mouth dripped darkness in the starlight.

A wolf.

The man stumbled back. He yelled. Swung his knife.

Jaskier stayed frozen to the ground.

The wolf leaped over him. The man shrieked. A pained growl.

Then that ripping noise.

Jaskier did not turn to look. He didn’t breathe. 

He was going to die.

He was going to die in a ditch.

Because of a white wolf.

At least that had some poetic irony to it.

It padded closer. Almost silent in its approach. What was it Geralt said he wished those nobles in Cintra- a shitless death? Maybe if this wolf was quick enough he’d manage it.

Hot coppery air pressed into his hair. 

It was _sniffing_ him.

Why was it sniffing him?

Its hot breaths moved down to his neck. This was it. He squeezed his eyes shut.

A tongue licked across his neck.

Jaskier was up with a yelp scrambling backwards. One hand pressed to his now wet and slimy neck.

“What the hell! Did you just Lick me!” He squawked. “What the actual hell!” His back hit a tree. 

He breathed in shaky gasps and out in hysterical shudders. The world was narrowing down to the faint outline of grass in front of him.

A sharp bark snapped his eyes upward. It sat and watched him.

Its eyes were glowing amber.

Something uncoiled in him and he let out a long exhale. 

He breathed in. Slow and deep.

The wolf nodded.

A laugh bubbled uncontrollably out of his chest. “You did not just Nod at me. What is my fucking life? What is my fucking life?” He buried his face in his hands. “I am somehow both too drunk and too hungover for this.” 

The wolf walked over to him but Jaskier couldn’t find it in him to be scared. He pressed the heels of his palms against his head to try and chase away the pounding.

It was sniffing his neck again. It twinged in pain. Oh. He reached down and felt the sticky blood. He was still bleeding.

“Just a little cut. Nothing to worry about. It’ll stop in a minute.” He said, unsure if it was more his benefit or the wolf’s. 

The wolf huffed.

He looked at it. It was big. White. With bright yellow eyes. He reached out the hand that wasn’t pressing down on his neck. 

It didn’t move as his hand made contact and sank into its deep fur. It was soft.

He was petting a wolf. He was petting a goddamn wolf and it hadn’t eaten him.

What the actual hell.

The wolf let out a pained yip and pulled away. 

Something sticky was on his hand. The wolf pulled back and he could make out the dark patch on its shoulder.

It was hurt.

“Oh shit your hurt. Fuck I don’t actually have any bandages- shit um lay down and I’ll try to compress it til it stops bleeding I guess?” He stripped off his doublet and started scooting towards the wolf. 

“Right, right you’re a wolf there is no chance you’re going to let me do this much less lay down but fuck. Fuck you rescued me from what would have been at very least a very unpleasant beating and I really don’t need to add physical ailments to my already broken heart and oh.” The wolf laid down, hurt shoulder up.

This was getting weird.

“Very good. That’s. Exactly what I asked you to do. I’m. I’m going to compress this. It’ll probably hurt. Try not to rip my throat out if you could.” He covered the wound with his doublet and slowly pressed down.

The wolf growled.

He froze.

It didn’t move.

“Well I hope that’s enough compression cause I’m not super into the idea of pressing down harder after you growled at me. Geralt would probably say” He cut himself off.   
It hurt to think of Geralt. He had to get used to it. Most of his life had been with Geralt and everyone knew it. They’d still expect stories of him. 

No one would care he hated the bard now. Or perhaps always had. They’d expect stories and if he wanted to eat until he found new stories to tell he would have to tell the old ones.

He steadied himself.

“Get away from the damn wolf Jaskier.” He growled in his best Geralt impression.

The wolf huffed.

“Everybody’s a critic.”

He waited.

It was cold. Especially without his doublet. His neck had stopped bleeding at least.

“So how long does it normally take for bleeding to stop on a wolf? I confess my main education on the subject has been a Witcher whose healing was markedly faster your average persons. And you are not a person so. Well. I didn’t even really get a good look at the injury. I suppose I should have washed it first. But it is very dark still. And I am having a remarkably terrible night so I hope you’re not too displeased with level of care I have been providing.”

His teeth were chattering. Sitting still like this really only made the situation worse. But he didn’t want to move if his companion was still bleeding. “Although, I suppose, you can’t be terribly picky about who is providing you with care. I am the only one left after all. Which to be clear, I am Very grateful for. Thank you so much for not eating me. An excellent choice on your part.”

The wolf wuffed at him. Nosed at his hands.

“Are you saying your good? I should let go now?”

It nodded at him.

Jaskier raised a few more internal curses to the gods before pulling back. Gently removed his doublet. He couldn’t tell if the bleeding had stopped by starlight. It was just a patch of darkness to him. Hopefully the wolf hadn’t misled him.

He put the doublet back on to try and keep out the chill. A patch on the back was warm but cooled rapidly. He shivered.

“I’m going to put my Lute back in its case if that’s alright sir wolf?”

The wolf flopped its head down on the ground. He imagined it rolled its eyes. Cheeky thing. 

He crawled over to where his lute had been so roughly dropped. She was at very least in one piece. He strummed her once and found no upsetting changes in her sound. He tucked her back into her case. He’d give her a more detailed inspection in the morning.

But right now he was just cold.

He looked over at the wolf. He had been warm.

Probably best not to try and cuddle a wolf.

But he was very cold.

He moved back over towards it case in one hand.

It was a bad idea. A terrible one.

“So. Friend.” He started approaching on his knees. That would be less threatening right? “It’s really quite cold out. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help your distinctly less furry companion out?” He reached out towards its back. One eye watched him.

It growled.

He pulled his hand back.

“Right. That’s fair. I’ll just. Go over here. Don’t eat me in my sleep please.” He retreated back and curled around his Lute case. Hopefully dawn would come soon and he’d be fine. It wasn’t that cold. He’d be fine.

He couldn’t stop shivering but he’d be fine.

He would be.

The wolf made some noise he couldn’t parse over the chattering of his teeth and got up.

It laid down behind him. Pressing warm fur into his back.

The shivering slowly receded and he drifted off.

The sun beat down on him hot and demanding in time with his hangover. He rolled over to try and block out the light.

Something cold and wet pressed against his neck.

He yelped and jumped away from it further jarring his head into the bright light. 

A sharp bark cut through the morning birdsong as he clutched his head. 

The white wolf.

Massive. White. With beautiful golden eyes.

It was still here. Not a dream.

“You’re still here?”

The wolf raised an eyebrow at him.

Wolves were Not supposed to behave like this. They’d been attacked by enough. He would know.

Geralt always said the feral dogs were worse than wolves. They were smart enough to know when you had food and weren’t afraid of people like wolves were. Wolves usually only attacked if they were starving because they knew people were dangerous. But there was no fucking way this was a dog.

It got up and turned towards the woods.

Well at least that would be the end of this fever dream. 

The wolf turned back and looked at him. Gave him an incredulous look.

He gave it one right back. “What?”

It looked at him, ears lowered and head bowed slightly, and motioned to the woods.

“You want me to follow you?”

It nodded.

“You want me to follow you, a goddamn wolf into the woods? What were two dead people not enough! You want me to willingly follow you to my death as well?” He yelled.

It lowered itself to the ground ears flat against its head.

Its shoulder was covered in dried blood.

He stopped yelling.

“You got hurt. Protecting me.”

The wolf glanced at it and shifted so he couldn’t see it.

“That wasn’t a dream. You protected me and got hurt. You let me try and help. You kept me warm last night."

The wolf glanced away. Like it was embarrassed.

Fuck.

He had a terrible feeling about this.

He grabbed his lute and stood. Brushed himself off.

“You want to show me something right?”

It nodded.

He sighed.

Wasn’t like this was the weirdest thing he’d ever done. Or the stupidest. He’d spent two decades following after a man who hated him after all. Caused him nothing but trouble.

Old habits die hard. 

“Alright. Lead the way then.”

It looked up at him. Surprised.

“Not the first white wolf I’ve followed despite all recommendations of sense and logic. Spent a lifetime doing exactly that. Might as well aid the one who seems to give a shit about me.”

The wolf whined at him. Then realized it was making that noise. It silenced itself.

“Come one now. I don’t have the supplies for camping. If you want to show me something we need to be quick about it so I have a chance of making it to town before nightfall.”  
It stood and hurried ahead.

He was a moron. An idiot. A complete and utter imbecile. 

The knife the bandit had threatened him with last night was at his feet. He picked it up.

He was a fool. Following a yet another white wolf to his near certain doom.

He hurried after.

What he, and that wolf was definitely a he thank you very much, had apparently wanted to show him was a campsite.

Not a bad one by any regard. He’d have called it Geralt approved even, once upon a time. Far enough from the road a fire wouldn’t draw attention, somewhat sheltered from the wind, and with plenty of grass for their horse.

It was perfectly obvious they’d had a horse. He’d stepped in the proof.

You’d think after all this time he’d know how to watch his step.

The fire had been buried but it didn’t seem warm. They hadn’t lit a fire this morning at least. But the site might have been older too. He didn't know.

Only one part of the grass had been smooshed by, presumably, a bedroll.

The scene filled him with nostalgia which turned into dread.

The wolf was running around frantically, sniffing. He seemed upset.

Jaskier had a sinking feeling he knew why.

The wolf froze.

He dashed further into the bush.

He cursed and took off after. 

It was a battlefield.

Or it had been.

There were trees shattered. The ground trampled and burned.

At the center of it all was a wyvern. Headless.

The wolf was searching the clearing. 

Well it was a clearing now. It hadn’t started as one.

Something glinted in the sun. Right next to the corpse. 

Geralt said wyverns were dangerous to humans even when they were dead. The claws were still toxic and the post humorous fumes they released could make him sick.  
But well. The wolf was distracted. And it wasn’t like either of them ever listened to the other anyway.

He knelt down next to the reflective object that was almost covered by the wyvern’s claws. A circular disk. Bigger than a coin and smaller than a bowl or plate.

He knew what it was before he flipped it over.

The wolf was barking at him. Running towards him. Probably yelling ‘Jaskier you idiot! I’ve told you! Wyvern’s can kill squishy little humans like you even after their dead! Why don’t you ever listen!’

He turned and held the medallion up towards the wolf. He froze.

“Hey Geralt.”


	2. An agreement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier and Geralt have a conversation, or as much conversation as one can have with a wolf. Jaskier runs into someone unexpected at the bar. A confession goes awry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that Jaskier has a panic attack in this chapter and is just generally very stressed. Take care of yourselves.

Geralt raised no objections when he left the clearing and stomped his way back to the path. Just followed him. Silently.

The second his feet hit the gravel he turned back towards him.

“What the fuck do you want Geralt! Piss off and take your one damn blessing! And take your damn medallion with you!” He threw it at him.

It fell harmlessly at its feet. He'd never been a very good shot.

Geralt hunched his shoulders and lowered his head. Looking sad.

“Don’t you fucking look at me like that Geralt! You have no fucking right to be sad about this! You aren’t the one who got heartlessly rejected, blamed for causing all your fucking problems and then left on that fucking mountain! You don’t get to look like that!” He watched him flinch into himself getting smaller and smaller.

Fucking good.

“Go find one of your oh so many other companions to solve whatever fucking magic curse you managed to get yourself transformed by! Because this terrible shit shoveling companion is fucking done!”

He turned heel and stomped away.

He didn’t hear Geralt following.

But he knew he was.

There was a stream before entering town. He pulled his doublet off and tried to get the blood out of it. Clean himself off before begging for coin.

Working. Working for coin.

His stomach folded over itself. Gods he was hungry.

Had he actually eaten anything last night? Or had he spent it all on drink?

He didn’t know.

That was probably answer enough.

Something thumped to the ground behind him.

He glared over his shoulder. 

Geralt. A dead rabbit at his paws.

“Go. Away.”

Geralt glared back.

“I don’t want your damn rabbit.”

His stomach growled. Traitor.

Geralt made a smug face.

He snatched the rabbit up.

“This does not count as a goddamn apology Geralt and even if it did I am not accepting it.”

He’d need to start a fire. He had time. He’d actually made it a decent way last night.

It took him a while. He could feel Geralt fucking judging him. Not everyone had magic fire starter at their literal fingertips.

He threw Geralt the gutted remains after. He was going to eat a real meal in town. He didn’t need to fuck with rabbit heart. But if Geralt, a literal wolf right now, wanted to he could.

“That was not a peace offering.” He told him after Geralt finished his gross ass meal.

Geralt stared at him.

He stood up and went back to the trail. “It wasn’t.”

Geralt followed behind. Not bothering to stay out of sight anymore.

Asshole.

The path was getting more used. They were getting close.

He. He was getting close. Geralt was not included.

Geralt wouldn’t be allowed in town. He was barely tolerated normally. He’d be even less so now.

Which meant he couldn’t even ask to find out if there were any mages nearby who could help.

“Do you even know who cursed you?” He muttered half to himself.

Geralt jogged up next to him. His face was as serious and composed as ever but his tail was wagging slightly.

His face twitched into a smile.

No.

Angry.

Still angry.

Frown. Frown.

Geralt shook his head.

Ah right. That was how you frowned.

“You thought your stuff would be at that camp right? Did it get stolen?”

He nodded. And then tilted his head. Confused.

Seriously. Who managed to steal Roach? She was a beast when she wanted to be.

“Do you remember killing the wyvern at least?”

A confident nod. 

“But you don’t remember transforming into a literal wolf?”

A huff.

“Piss off any more powerful mages besides Yennifer recently Geralt?” He asked massaging his head. The hangover was gone but a new one was quickly taking its place.  
He growled.

“Seems like a fair question to me.”

Eventually the town rolled into view as he let the conversation lapse.

Conversation. Half of them couldn’t speak.

As opposed to normal when half of them just didn’t speak.

“You can’t come into town.”

Geralt glared.

“Geralt there is no amount of flower crowns and collars I could put on you that would convince anyone you were a dog. You’re a fucking wolf and you’ll get us both chased out of town before I have a chance to even inquire about a mage.”

Geralt looked up at him with wide eyes. His tail wagged slowly.

Fuck.

“This isn’t forgiveness or anything like that you got that Geralt?” He rubbed his head. “You fucking hurt me and I know you were hurting too but. Geralt I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep being your friend and keep not being yours.”

He was not going to cry. Not over Geralt of fucking Rivia. Not again.

“I know you don’t love me Geralt. Fine. I’ve always fucking known that. But don’t. Don’t ask me to keep doing this.” Geralt whined. He pressed his hands harder against his temples. 

“I’ll fucking help you break this curse and get your goddamn shit back. And then you can decide if you want to apologize and try to be my goddamn friend or you can do what you do best and ride Roach into the fucking sunset and we’ll both never think about each other ever a-fucking-gain.”

He would think of Geralt every day. He was going to be haunted by Geralt forever. But Geralt didn’t get to know that. Know how Jaskier loved him.

He was going to keep loving Geralt every day until the eternal fire burnt out. He’d hate him and spite him and even if he never saw him again he would love him. He would love him like the fool he was. Until the end of the world. And all the days after that too.

But Geralt didn’t get to know that. Geralt forfeited that right on the mountain. Jaskier would love others around his love for Geralt. Love people who didn’t hurt him. Who didn’t hate him.

He probably knew anyway. That Jaskier loved him.

It just didn’t matter to him.

“Deal?”

Geralt had sat down in front of him at some point. He lowered his head to the ground and gently placed something down.

His medallion.

Fuck.

He looked away. Tears where building in his eyes again. “Fuck I’m sorry Geralt. I know that medallion means the world to you. Fuck I just left it behind I’m sorry.” 

He dropped to his knees and picked it up. Drool and all. “I’m so fucking sorry I’ll see if I can find a chain in town big enough for you and I’ll make sure it stays safe. Fuck. I’m sorry I threw it at you.”

Geralt head butted his shoulder. Not hard enough to knock him over but enough to interrupt him.

“Sorry.” He said one last time. He put the medallion in the hidden pocked in his shirt where he usually kept his emergency funds. There was plenty of room. “I’ll go see about. All this.” He waved at Geralt’s whole form.

Geralt huffed and gave him a snarky look.

He shoved him. “Yeah yeah. No sleeping with married woman. You nag. Don’t get eaten by a harpy you fleabag.”

Geralt pulled back his lip and snarled at him. The affect was rather ruined by the play bow he’d fallen into.

Definitely not used to this new form yet huh. 

He stood up. “I’ll see you on the other side of town in the morning.”

Geralt nodded standing as well.

He was a fair ways down the path before he finally felt Geralt’s eyes leave him.

Fuck.

Hopefully this town liked songs about heartbreak and longing. He had plenty of those.

They weren’t in the mood for heartbreak and longing.

Luckily it was pretty obvious what they were in the mode for.

Celebration.

He knew how to play those too.

He just had to frame this whole situation in the proper light to join them in the right mood.

Geralt had found him. Protected him. Kept him warm.

Geralt had asked him for help. 

Geralt was giving him another chance to prove himself a worthy travel companion.

And hopefully. If he was very very lucky. Geralt might even let him stick around and prove it.

He’d focus on how Geralt needed to do better later. Right now they were celebrating.

Some more people filtered in as he continued. A few travelers. A couple. Some townsfolk. 

They didn’t have a mage in town. There was a rumor of a druid a week’s travel south and tales of the destruction of Sodden but nothing helpful. Druids weren’t generally deal in   
curses, making or breaking. But it might be worth heading that way anyway.

Two cloaked figures settled at Geralt’s table. He had learned how to pick which table Geralt was going to sit at a long time ago. Whichever had the best brooding view.

He said it was something about escape exits and protecting his back. But he knew the truth. It was the best corner for brooding. 

A call rang out for his most famous piece.

His jaw twitched.

He needed food and a bed and coin for a damn mage if they ever found one.

Even if Geralt left after this was over he’d still have to play that song for the rest of his life.

Better to start practicing it now.

He smiled brightly and began.

The crowd was watching. Enjoying.

Something was wrong. It felt too heavy. Someone was watching him. With intent.

That usually meant a kidnapping. Great. Just what he needed right now.

He pranced around the room. Trying to suss out the danger. 

His gaze caught on the brooding corner.

Golden eyes.

His fingers fumbled a single chord.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

One chord wasn’t anything. No one outside of bards would note one chord. 

Except for someone who’d heard it almost as many times as he had.

He moved as far away from the brooding corner as he could. Kept playing without break as long as he could.

That had looked like Fucking Geralt.

That had been fucking Geralt.

What the fuck.

There had been someone with him. A girl. Young.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Geralt’s child of surprise. Princess Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon of Cintra.

Cintra had burned.

He’d gotten his child of surprise.

And been turned into a goddamn wolf.

No. No that wasn’t the fucking reasonable answer. The wolf was probably just some weird hyper similar to Geralt animal. Yeah. Yeah that made fucking sense. Jaskier had just been projecting onto some random white wolf that decided to kill two muggers and spare him. And then snuggle him. And feed him. And lead him to Geralt’s medallion.

How was that any fucking better?

His voice was getting tired. And his fingers hurt. He should have stopped for a break twenty minutes ago.

But he was still watching Jaskier.

If he stopped then Geralt might approach. 

I mean. What was the other option besides weird wolf coincidence? It wasn’t like a mage could have transformed Geralt at the end of his hunt and then sent a body double to replace him and lead Cirilla into a trap where she could be taken by Redania or Nilfgard or something.

Body doubles that perfect didn’t fucking exist.

Except for dopplers.

He stumbled over to the bar and downed a drink. It tasted like ash.

There was no way in hell Cirilla knew Geralt well enough to know if he had been replaced by a Doppler. They’d have his memories and any strangeness would just be her normal.

A Doppler had tried to play that trick on him once. Over a decade ago. A noble family had decided to hang Geralt or something and they’d sent a Doppler to convince Jaskier to leave. 

Why they thought he was a threat to them he’d never understand. He was just a bard after all.

He had seen through the damn Doppler though. Convinced them to help release Geralt. Instigated a revolt that over threw the entire family.

Hm. Maybe they'd good reason to be scared of him.

The floorboards creaked behind him and the folks next to him at the bar scooched away as fast as their drunken states would allow.

“Jaskier.”

He squeezed the mug tighter. His heart was racing. He had to stink of fear. If a Doppler could even smell that. He wasn’t clear where their copying powers ended.

That first Doppler had been too nice. Had assumed that after all that time they were friends. That Geralt smiled and apologized and was Nice to him. Because most Dopplers were nice. It had taken less than five minutes to see through them.

Geralt wasn’t nice. He was good and kind and great but he wasn’t nice. Not to Jaskier.

“Can we talk?”

Geralt never wanted to talk. Not to him. That was his job. Talking. 

Geralt’s medallion wasn’t buzzing. But it didn’t buzz for Dopplers. Hadn’t buzzed for wolf Geralt either.

It wasn’t a perfect magic detection metric. But it did mean the mage who’d transformed Geralt wasn’t here. Probably.

He hoped.

He looked over his shoulder. Let his face turn hard and unwelcoming. It wasn’t difficult.

He was a goddamn actor. He had Geralt’s silver medallion. If the damn thing tried to attack him he could use it to fend them off long enough to scream bloody murder.

He’d probably die still. But Cirilla would know she’d been deceived.

“Maybe I don’t want to talk.” He said. Baiting them. 

Geralt might roll his eyes or make some comment about him being out of character. ‘That’s a first’ he might say. He might just raise an eyebrow and leave the bar. Expecting Jaskier to follow.

He really wanted them to say that. Do that. He wanted them to be him. It would be so much easier. Cirilla wouldn’t be in danger if it was Geralt. He’d have a white wolf to protect him and cuddle. It would be great. It would be so much easier.

“Jaskier. Please.” 

He felt his face break. Saw sorrow play out on their face in response.

Why had they even fucking approached him if they were such a shitty actor?

Because the wolf was loose. That made Jaskier a threat.

He forced his face to go hard again.

He spared a glance around the tavern. They would likely think him debating if it was worth it to start shit inside or outside. Which he was considering.

Mostly he was trying to think if there were any potential mages in the tavern. Someone powerful enough to transform Geralt would be prideful. Arrogant. Sure they might have dressed in travelers gear but they’d have kept a necklace, a ring, or their nice shoes. Something.

There hadn’t been anyone. No one stood out. Which meant they were even more confident. They’d left them alone.

They thought their Doppler could fool him. Trick him. Like he wouldn’t know Geralt blind. Overconfident prick.

Or they were smart and had actually hidden themselves well. Then he was dead. But he was probably dead anyway. 

Outside. The bar patrons would turn on Geralt too fast. He wouldn’t get a chance to prove to Cirilla what was going on. She’d think him just another prejudice ass who’d tried to run Geralt out of town. 

But if he stayed nearby the patrons would come to his rescue quick enough. Probably. Catch the Doppler. Maybe. Give her a chance to escape. Definitely. 

Geralt could find her after she’d fled town.

“Fine.” He said. He ducked out the back door. The forest stretched behind them.

Hm. That might help him. If Geralt was still overprotective.

He thought of the two people laying unburied on the side of the road. He shivered.

Yeah. Still overprotective.

He took a few steps towards the forest. The Doppler stepped out after him and settled with his back to the tavern wall. He’d been limping slightly.

They were doing a decent job of copying Geralt’s constipated expression. The one he made when he had something to say but he really didn’t want to say it. 

He’d wait him out. It’d give him a chance to think this through.

Maybe he was over reacting. Maybe this was Geralt and he did want to talk. He hoped that’s what it was. It would be so much easier if that’s all this was.

If they weren’t Geralt then he was almost certainly dead. He might be able to burn their face with the medallion before he died but Geralt’s body could kill him before anyone would even think to stop him. If he was smart he’d walk away from all this and let it play out.

But Cirilla was potentially in danger. She was Geralt’s daughter.

He’d asked another chance to prove himself a worthy travel companion.

Protecting her was that.

“You’re quiet.” Geralt was giving him a pleading look and a flicker of a smirk. To lighten the mood.

A strong opener. 

They’d had plenty of time to think of one while he’d stood there. Damnit.

“You said you wanted to talk. So talk.”

They grimaced.

“I owe you an apology.” They braced. Expecting an attack it seemed like.

Who was he to disappoint?

“You owe me many apologies. To which are you referring.” Anger seeped into his tone.

He flinched. They flinched? They were doing a remarkable job with Geralt’s face if it was ‘they’ and not ‘he’.

“For the. Mountain.”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Damnit Jaskier. I’m trying here!” He snapped. Angry. He squeezed his eyes closed and took a deep breath. “For what I said.”

Jaskier crossed his arms and looked away. 

“Ah yes. One blessing and all that.”

“Yes. That.” He grit out.

“Well get on with the apologizing or take your blessing and go.”

Maybe this was the real Geralt. Wanted to apologize. Make things right between them. Maybe maybe maybe.

Or maybe this was the fake. Who wanted him to join them so they could deal with whatever threat he posed. Kill him in his sleep. Keep him from helping the real Geralt. Maybe maybe maybe.

“Jaskier. I was hurting. Angry. Scared.” Wow that looked physically painful. 

“Did it hurt to admit that?” 

That was cruel. He was feeling cruel.

Geralt nodded. Just a fraction. So small he’d have assumed it a twitch on anyone else.

He inspected his nails. He’d missed a bit of blood. Darn.

“You don’t say that kind of thing unless you were already thinking it.”

The tense lines of Geralt’s form deepened. Eventually he nodded.

“They were my wishes. I claimed the law of surprise. Those were on me.”

He waited for the but.

“But,” There it was. “You’ve changed my life so much Jaskier. In ways I can’t control. And everything was out of control. I needed to feel in control Jaskier. Over something.”

“So you sent me away. Told me to not come back.”

Geralt nodded.

“You finally got your blessed silence. What. Didn’t suit you anymore?” He snapped. Glared at Geralt.

Those golden eyes were looking at him. His stomach flipped and he couldn’t look away. There was a look in them. He refused to identify it.

“No.” Geralt shook his head. "It didn't."

Geralt took a step towards him. And another. Stopped right next to him. A breath away from him.

“I missed you Jaskier.”

The world was falling apart around him.

If this was a Doppler Jaskier couldn’t tell. He wanted this to be real. He wanted Geralt to have missed him. He wanted an apology. 

He wanted to reach out. Believe him. Even if he was a Doppler. He’d follow the siren call to his grave willingly. He wanted this so badly.

But Cirilla.

A Doppler would know. Anyone could see he loved Geralt. Would know if he offered Jaskier this he’d follow. No matter his reservations.

But the real Geralt didn’t love him.

He’d asked for one more chance to prove himself worthy. He would be. Even if it meant dying. Breaking his own heart. Anything. He owed Geralt that. Owed it to the girl he'd bound to Geralt.

“I missed you too.” He forced his hand up to Geralt’s chest. Felt the familiar leather under his palm.

A pleased rumble started in Geralt’s chest. Jaskier pushed him back. Not that he could. It was halfhearted at best anyway. 

Geralt made a questioning noise.

Now or never.

“I can’t keep doing this Geralt.” Geralt’s face contorted into panic. Jaskier wanted that to be real. The tears that started in his eyes were at least. “I love you Geralt and I can’t keep doing this.”

Geralt didn’t love him. Not that he was incapable of love. Just that he didn’t love Jaskier.

The Doppler would know that. But he’d panic. Think Jaskier would leave. Find the real Geralt and destroy his plans.

One of Geralt’s hands held his elbow. Supported his forearm. The other came up and covered his on Geralt’s chest.

Geralt closed his eyes and pressed their foreheads together.

“Jaskier.” The world was ending. He thanked the gods they couldn’t see his fresh tears. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”

“I love you Jaskier. I’m sorry.”

The world was ending. So he might as well pretend for a moment more.

He took the arm Geralt had been holding and caressed his face.

“Don’t apologize. Kiss me.”

Geralt leaned in and kissed him. Gentle and warm. Better than he’d ever dreamed. Because it was almost real.

He couldn’t get the medallion out without notice.

He could get the knife.

He led Geralt back until their back hit the tavern wall kissing him sweetly the whole way.

He pulled the knife and held it just off his neck. So it wasn’t touching. Braced the other arm against their chest. 

He’d been on the other end of this movement more than enough times to do it properly.

Their eyes shot open and frantically searched his.

“Where are you taking Cirilla? And who are you working for.”

They started to push him back. He hissed and held them there. “The knife’s silver. Answer me or I’ll prove it.”

“What?” Geralt’s face looked so confused and betrayed. He’d have hated that look if it was real.

Too bad it wasn’t.

“Drop the act I know you’re a Doppler. And if you don’t what everyone else to know it too you’ll hurry up and answer me.”

“I’m not a Doppler Jaskier.” They growled but didn’t try and throw Jaskier off. Scared of the knife.

Hah. Not a Doppler indeed.

“Where are you taking her?” He snarled right back.

“Kaer Morhen. Obviously.”

Yeah fucking obviously.

“What did you do to Geralt?”

“I am Geralt Jaskier! What the hell are you going on about!” They looked furious. But they still weren’t risking touching the knife. Getting burned. Proving his point.

“Tell me how to break the curse you put on him and I let you go!”

They surged up grabbing the knife and flinging it away. Jaskier scrambled back towards the woods. Where was that damn wolf when he needed him?

“Okay good one calling my bluff on the knife there. Yeah I don’t actually have a silver knife but I do have silver on me so stay back!”

They let him scramble away. “Then pull it out. I’m not a fucking Doppler Jaskier.” They held out a hand to him.

He didn’t actually have any silver other than the medallion. And he wasn’t going to hand that over. Not to an imposter. 

An eyebrow twitched in irritation. “You don’t actually have any silver do you Jaskier?”

“I have silver.”

“You honestly thought you could fight a Doppler posing as me with a steel knife?” They were advancing on him again. He tried to match the pace backwards but they were gaining on him. “God damn it Jaskier. How are you this stupid?”

“Where’s your medallion Geralt?” He snapped glancing into the forest. Of all the times for Geralt to not be a worry wort. 

They paused. “I lost it.” They gave him a strange look.

“Awfully convenient that you lost your most precious silver necklace Geralt. Did you replace the silver sword too? Because if you ditched that somewhere the real Geralt is going to be pissed. Those aren’t cheap you know. I mean seriously you took everything else but you left the medallion? Amateur hour here.”

They were looking at him incredulously. Good. He just had to buy some time for Geralt to get here. He’d know what to do. Probably. Maybe. 

They were doing a very good job looking confused. They glanced down to his fingers.

“Your rings. They’re silver. Give me one and I’ll prove it.”

Oh that was delightful. “Polished steel which Geralt would know-”

“Because I told you they were knockoffs. Fuck.” 

“Yeah. So why don’t you drop the, frankly terrible, act and tell me what your trying to do.”

“I am taking my daughter to Kaer Morhen and I was trying to apologize to you!” Oh that was the scary face. Very nice.

“Well how about I give you some tips for your next performance.” He scoffed. “Because you sir are a terrible Geralt.” Where was that dumb wolf?

“Any reasonable person would think they should apologize for the mountain. But Geralt. Geralt hasn’t apologized for calling my music terrible, ripping my favorite doublets, or almost killing me with his fucking wish!” He was yelling now. The Doppler was covering the distance between them too quickly. He turned to run.

They caught his wrist and he nearly fell over from the sudden stop. He pulled himself as far from them as he could.

Fuck they were strong.

“I didn’t realize we were keeping score. But I’ll fucking apologize for those too if you’ll just stop and explain what the hell your talking about!”

He was scrabbling to get out of their grip. Ok maybe he hadn’t really thought this whole plan through but he’d been in a rush! He probably should have just played along and then figured out what they were doing but Fuck!

“Jaskier calm down!” They were yelling at him. Of course they were yelling at him. If they didn’t have Geralt’s gloves on he could burn them and run but as it was the only place that was uncovered was his face and there was no way they’d let him get close enough to do that again.

They were pulling him closer. Yelling at him. He couldn’t focus on what they were saying. Everything was rushing past him too quickly. They were going to kill him and Cirilla would be captured and Geralt was going to be stuck as a wolf forever because he had failed yet again.

Served him right for thinking he could be a good companion to someone like Geralt of Rivia. Who slept with sorceress and fought wyverns and saved dragons. He was just a pathetic human.

His vision was tunneling. Well. At least he wouldn’t have to see the end coming. He was being lowered into the grass.

A sharp bark cut through the terror.

There he was. All white fur and powerful muscle. Growling. Baring his teeth.

He inhaled.

“Geralt.”

Geralt was here.

Geralt was here so everything would be okay.

The Doppler was positioning himself between Jaskier and Geralt.

“Go back to the inn Jaskier.” They said pulling steel. 

Everything would not be okay.

He grabbed their armor and tried to yank them off balance. It didn’t work but they glanced back at him.

How dare they look confused. How dare they look scared. How dare they.

“I’m not going to let you kill him!”

“It’s a goddamn wolf Jaskier!”

They shoved him back and he fell on his ass. Geralt was going to pounce and the Doppler was going to swing and Geralt was going to die.

He wasn’t going to let Geralt die.

He threw himself between them tackling Geralt to the ground.

If they wanted to kill Geralt they’d have to kill him first.

Which they probably didn’t mind.

The sword didn’t come down.

“Jaskier move!”

Geralt growled and wriggled under him. He pinned him down best he could covering every inch of his vulnerable wolven form.

“I’m not letting you kill him! I won’t let you kill Geralt!”

Geralt stilled underneath him as the Doppler knelt next to him. Watching them. “What?” They asked again.

“I’m not going to let you hurt Geralt and I’m not going to let you kidnap the princess either! If you’ve got a problem with that then you’d better kill me right now or I swear on the eternal fire I’ll hunt you to the ends of the world!” His teeth were chattering and he was shaking out of his skin which rather undermined his point. But it was true. The Doppler would know it was true.

He was nothing if not stubborn.

“I’m not going to kill you Jaskier.”

“I’ll make your life miserable.” Geralt was focused completely on the Doppler. Shifting himself under Jaskier back into a crouch. He buried his face in his neck and wrapped his arms around his neck to stop him.

“Jaskier you already make my life miserable.” A pained noise slipped out. He didn’t want to hear that. Even if it wasn’t really Geralt he didn’t want to hear that in his voice. He knew it was true but he didn’t want to hear it.

One of Geralt’s large hands began petting his hair. He squeezed Geralt tighter and tried not to cry. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t.

“I might as well have the pleasure of your company while you do.”

Geralt whined under him. He was holding him too tightly. “Sorry.” He muttered loosening his grip.

“Can you explain what you think is going on Jaskier? Because I’m lost.” They sighed.

He glanced over at them. They looked tired. They looked every bit as beautiful as Geralt always did. They still had the sword out.

“Sword away first.”

“Your wolf still wants to eat me.” 

Geralt growled a confirmation.

“Yes and you still want to kill him. Plus last I checked you didn’t need a sword to deal with one wolf and his bard so. Sword away.”

They looked between him and Geralt. Debating. “You so much as nip him and I’ll break your neck.” He threatened sheathing the blade at last.

He rolled his eyes and Geralt let out an annoyed huff. “Yes, yes you’re very big and scary. We’re terrified.”

They gave him a look that said ‘you were’ which is just rude. Very rude Doppler.

They did seem to be waiting though. And not killing either of them. So.

He frowned at the wolf below him. It spared him a glance. Those were Geralt’s eyes.

The wolf shoved him, not appreciating being blanketed by bard.

“Right, right. No murder on your part either you hear me?” He asked shuffling off him settling between the two Geralts, forming a bardic barrier of sorts.

Bardic barrier. That had some nice alliteration. Could he work that into a song?

“Jaskier. Focus.”

He jumped a little. Ops. “Ah yes well what’s happened as I see it is-“

Geralt growled at him.

Oh. Right.

“Actually you should tell us what you think is going on first. So you can’t make your story match ours.” He reached back and scratched Geralt between the ears as a thank you. He grumbled and his ears went flat but he saw that tail wag. He knew Geralt like physical affection. Grumpy ass thinking he wouldn’t notice.

They rubbed the bridge of their nose. “How far back do I have to go?”

“All the way! Mountain to now! Not a detail to be spared!”

They both growled at him.

“Well you can’t blame me for trying.” He sighed. “Killing the wyvern. Start there.”

“I killed it.” They said. As verbose as always.

“I need more detail than that.” He gestured sharply to make his point. “When? Where? What happened after? I know you killed it! The whole town knows that!”

“Yesterday evening. Back in the forest.” He pointed in the right direction. “I went back to camp for the night and we came here to collect.”

Well that all seemed reasonable. Not that it would have been hard to come up with that.

He glared at their leg. Then at them. They looked away.

Oh they were going to make him spell it out for them huh? Way to win his trust.

“And your leg?”

“It’s fine.”

“So the limp was a ploy to make us think you were injured and let down our guard?” He accused.

They looked back at him incredulous. “No.”

He glared harder.

“It scratched my leg. It’ll be better by tomorrow.” They sighed. “Ciri already fussed over it. I didn’t want you to do the same.”

That did sound like Geralt.

He wanted them to be Geralt.

But if he was wrong about them being Geralt and let them leave with Cirilla? If he was the reason she was lost forever?

There would be no forgiveness. He’d have failed Geralt. He’d have failed Cirilla. Failed them both so completely that an eternity on the pyre wouldn’t be enough to atone.

He turned back to the wolf. The looked up at him. Those were every bit Geralt’s eyes. He’d memorized them years ago and they matched the Dopplers perfectly.

What was the risk in being wrong about the wolf?

He could have been a spy he supposed. Sent to gather information about them. 

Seemed overly risky and convoluted. Assuming he’d trust a white wolf with Geralt’s secrets or even at all. Kidnapping him would have been easier.

He had trusted the wolf. Followed him blindly into the woods. So if it was a trap they hadn’t been wrong. It just seemed like a wild assumption. There were easier ways to lead him into trouble.

“Your turn Jaskier.”

They looked tired. Stressed. They were looking at him with longing. Geralt didn’t look at him like that. But he wanted him to.

Which meant he couldn’t trust his instincts. Because he wanted this to be real so badly.

Believing this Geralt was more dangerous on every level.

He studied the wolf. He returned the gaze.

“You are Geralt right?” He asked him.

The wolf nodded.

“Jaskier.” The Doppler pleaded.

“As I see it. Geralt was fighting a wyvern and once it was dead a mage transformed him into a wolf and you replaced him before returning to the princess at camp. Geralt escaped and found me being mugged on the side of the road and rescued me.”

They were scanning him for injury. Their hand twitched. “Were you hurt?”

He shook his head. Geralt scowled at him.

“It was a scratch.” He argued. “An actual scratch. The heart attack you gave me when you appeared in the starlight and bathed the path in the attackers’ blood was far more upsetting than the nick I received.”

“It killed people?” They asked horrified.

“You have no room to talk if you wish to continue pretending to be Geralt. Wouldn’t be the first bandits you’d killed. And unlike you, he only has claws and teeth. His non-lethal options are limited at best.”

“He killed people and you stayed with him? Jaskier are you mad!”

“No mad was petting him. And tending his wounds. And following him into the forest because he asked me to. That was mad Geralt. But trusting white wolves seems to be in my very nature.”

They buried their head in their hands. Geralt often did that when he realized how terrible Jaskier was. Too trusting, too stupid, too oblivious, too weak. He’d seen that motion a lot.

“Yes you think I’d have learned after the mountain.” Both wolves flinched. 

“But I can’t regret trusting you. I won’t let that be the lesson I learn. No matter how this ends Geralt,” He didn’t know which one he was speaking to but they were both listening so, he supposed, it didn’t particularly matter, “I refuse to regret more than two decades of my life spent alongside you. Spent loving you. I’ll not let you take that from me. I won’t.”

“Jaskier I-”

“Don’t.” He cut them off. He couldn’t bare to hear it. Whatever it was.

He inhaled shakily. “Then he led me to your campsite, deserted, and the wyvern. And I realized that he had to be Geralt.”

“Just like that?” They looked annoyed.

“There were other things. But yes. Just like that.” He had a hangnail. He flicked it.

They stood up and paced back and forth between the trees. 

“You trusted them just like that but I’m a Doppler because I tried to apologize?”

“Among other things yes.”

“What other things!” 

“Confessing to me mostly.”

They stopped pacing. Stared at him. 

That was a sad face. Geralt’s face shouldn’t look that sad.

Doppler’s were too kind. Or at least this one was.

Geralt shuffled closer to him, warming his back.

Maybe he just looked that pathetic then.

“Geralt doesn’t love me. I’d hardly believe he likes me. But it was very sweet of you to pretend.”

He wasn’t going to cry. Not over Geralt of Rivia. Not again.

They opened their mouth to say something. He didn’t want to hear it so he plowed on.

“And in the end trusting you is far more dangerous. You are traveling with Cirilla and if you're the fake then trusting you puts her in unknowable danger. Trusting the wolf that can’t even enter towns without being killed seems a far safer option.”

Besides. If he believed them and they turned out to be a Doppler and then Geralt claimed life’s one blessing he didn’t know if he’d survive it. It was one thing to lose something you knew you never had. It was another to hold the thing you desired most and have it ripped away.

They had to be a Doppler. It was the only belief he’d survive.

“You’re trying to protect Ciri.” They marveled.

“I asked for another chance to prove myself a worthy travel companion.” He pointed out, eyes full of tears. He wouldn’t let them fall.

They were looking at him again. He didn’t honestly know what to do next. He picked at the hangnail.

“Come with us.”

His head jerked up to look at them.

“To Kaer Morhen. That way you know she’s safe.”

Geralt looked so warm. So kind.

He said he wasn’t going to cry. Not over Geralt of Rivia. Not again.

He’d known it was a lie. But he had hoped it would have lasted longer.

He forced himself to look away. Ask Geralt if this was a good idea.

It wasn’t. But he didn’t have any better ones.

Geralt studied him, then the Doppler.

He nodded.

“Ok.” He said, voice wobbling only slightly. “We will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot woot! I did promise chapter two would be up quick and here it is! The next one won't be up so fast since I haven't started it yet. Hopefully the fact its 3x longer than the first chapter will help hold you over. Next time we get to meet Ciri and we get some fluff!!! Send Jaskier some hugs. He needs them.   
> Also it's time to place your bets! Whose the fake!


	3. A Delicate Dance

“You know we’ve been out here a while. Did you just. Leave her in the tavern by herself?”

Geralt stood up and offer him a hand up. Definitely too friendly. He took it anyway.

“I sent her to our room before talking to you. Told her to block the door.”

He peered at them. “And you think she did that?”

He didn’t know Cirilla. Perhaps she was an obedience, timid child. He hoped for her sake she wasn’t. Even if that would cause them problems. She’d need her grandmother’s claws if she was going to survive. Both in the world and by Geralt’s side.

If you couldn’t push back against Geralt you’d get swept away. Roach would push back once she got too tired. He’d done the same. Geralt would run you to an early grave if you didn’t. Completely unintentionally too. It just didn’t occur him to stop.

They frowned. “She went to the room.”

So he saw her go. That didn’t mean she’d stayed. 

It would be simpler if she’d stayed. Hadn’t overheard what they’d said. She had so few people left in this world. He’d hate to have damaged her trust in Geralt.

But if she was the kind of child who’d stay in her room when there was something interesting going on. Well, she’d be a poor fit for a Witcher’s life.

“Well you’re going to have to introduce us. I was so upset when Calanthe wouldn’t let me play for her. It was terribly rude. Thinking I was trying to spy on your child of surprise for you. Pavetta had even requested I play. Abhorrent woman.” 

If Cirilla had heard she’d probably test Geralt some point tonight. She had to have kind of silver weapon. Geralt would have made sure of that.

“Were you?” Jaskier quirked an eyebrow at them. “Trying to spy on her?”

“Spy is such a nasty word. One that implies I’d have told you anything. Which I wouldn’t have because you clearly did not want to know anything about her. I wanted to get to know her. Very different.”

He turned back to Geralt as they considered that. “Can you stay nearby? Check in after dark? Might be able to sneak you into the inn then.”

“You are not bringing a wolf into our room.” They declared.

“I think that will be your daughters choice.” They made an uncomfortable face. “Not using that word yet? Alright well then. Anyway I will feel better knowing I can keep an eye on both of you at once. No gallivanting off to report to your superiors at night or any such nonsense.”

“You’re letting him wander off right now.”

“Which I would avoid if I had any other option. Besides, if you’re both together the real Geralt can keep an eye on the fake. Isn’t that preferable? I mean only you two know which one is the fake.”

“Which is exactly why I don’t want him in the room. I don’t want him anywhere near Ciri. Or you.”

Wolf Geralt snarled.

He sighed. “Then keep a close eye on him. Like I said, you’re more dangerous to trust. So excuse my paranoia on this matter and do as I say.”

They studied him. Turned and walked back towards the inn. There was that limp again. Most people wouldn’t have even noticed it. But he’d memorized Geralt’s gait long ago. Jaskier could recognize him by the way his feet hit the ground. He had before.

“Ciri has silver. We can end this now and ditch the wolf.”

“Why did you camp last night Geralt?”

They turned back to him.

“With Roach you could have slept in the inn not on the ground in the cold. I’m sure she would have preferred that.”

“I was injured.”

“Never stopped you before.”

They stared at him. Demanding he get to the point.

“I’m sure she insisted you stay and sleep it off right? And at that point you’d know all the silver they had. And your friendly mage could fabricate copies that wouldn’t hurt a Doppler. Swap them out while you were outside.” He said softly.

“Stories getting pretty convoluted Jaskier.”

“Would mage powerful enough to transform a Witcher into a wolf be able to do that Geralt?”

They glanced away briefly. “Maybe.”

Maybe. Maybe maybe maybe. 

Why was his life so damn full of maybes?

“This would be so much easier if you were just a damn wolf you know?”

He looked up at Jaskier. Nodded. Looked away.

“None of our equipment can be trusted then. Which is why you asked about the medallion. Because that could be tested.”

Oh. Because it reacted to magic. A fake probably wouldn’t. Unless it was very well made. That was a good explanation. 

He’d asked because if they’d shown him the medallion, or rather a medallion, then he would have been a fake. Or he was holding a fake. One good sign would have revealed the imposter. Either the wolf with the planted medallion or Geralt with the replica.

“Yes.” He lied. “When did you lose it?”

“During the wyvern fight I think. I was. A bit out of it after.”

“Poison or potions?” He pet Geralt’s head one last time before following after.

They waited for him to catch up before walking back. “Both. I think.”

“No wonder she didn’t want you riding back then. Injured, covered in wyvern, and black with toxicity? I’m surprised she didn’t run away screaming.”

“You never did.”

“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t upsetting.” Ugh. They were making a face that said they’d completely misunderstood. “To see you in pain Geralt. That was the upsetting part. Not. Whatever you were thinking.” Probably something dumb about how terrifying he was. 

He opened the tavern door at looked back. Geralt was still watching him. If he was the real one this would be terrifying. Trusting Jaskier with his child of surprise.

“Do you think she’ll like me?” 

“What’s not to like.” He drawled stepping inside.

“Very funny Geralt.” He said following them. 

“When did you go get her?”

“We found each other near Sodden. The day after it burned.”

“Oh gods Geralt.”

“Eist locked me in the dungeons.”

“Been there before. Good masonry those dungeons.”

“Didn’t notice.”

“You wouldn’t. You never appreciate true craftsmanship unless it’s a sword or armor.”

“Or tack.”

“Yes or tack I suppose.” He missed the mare. She was almost fond of him. Which was really very silly given this Roach had known him just as long as she’d known Geralt. Sometimes he suspected Geralt had chosen the one mare who didn’t like him just to be difficult.

He’d chosen her because she looked like Roach and had the personality to match. A temperament that would keep both of them alive. He knew that. It was still frustrating.

Those first few months had been hard on Geralt though. Both in training a new mare and missing his old one. Geralt hurt so acutely even as he learned to love her for all the ways she was different from the previous Roach.

It had made him almost wish he was the kind to settle. So he could have taken the old Roach in. Let her graze on lush pastures so Geralt could come and visit her whenever he wanted. Until the mare’s time finally came.

The family he’d sold her to instead had been lovely. They never went back.

He’d wondered then how many years he had left before Geralt did the same to him.

Less than he’d thought. For reasons unrelated to the clicking in his knees or the faint crow’s feet around his eyes. That didn’t make it better.

“Can we go check on her later?”

“You’ll have to go easy on the treats.” They stood in front of what must have been their room. “Ciri’s been giving her a lot. Don’t want her to colic.”

It was his turn to grimace. Horse’s dietary sensitivities was a lesson he’d learned once, at Roach’s expense. It was not a lesson he ever wanted to repeat. To this day he didn’t know how Geralt had ever forgiven him.

He certainly hadn’t forgiven himself.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t get too many.” He promised. Geralt knocked.

There was the sound of a chair being removed from the door. Almost certainly followed them then. If she’d been cautious enough to stay she would have blocked it with something heavier than a chair.

He would know. He’d played this game with Geralt more than enough times. 

“I know.” Geralt mumbled. The door cracked open and Geralt peered down at his child. Jaskier couldn’t see her from this angle. An issue he hoped would soon be addressed.

“How’d it go?” Came a confident little voice.

Definitely followed them then. He thanked destiny for giving them a brave little girl.

Giving Geralt a brave little girl. Not them. Never them.

“He wants to meet you.”

“Really?” She sounded delighted and shocked. He loved her already.

He’d loved her for a very long time if he was honest. Maybe now he’d get a chance to play the songs he’d written for her.

“Hm. In the room. He’s going to make a prick of himself. Not in the hallway.”

“You know me so well Geralt.” He assured with a smirk.

Geralt just wanted to minimize the amount of people that would see her. Allow them a proper introduction without worrying about ease droppers. No need to draw extra attention to his thoughtfulness though. He not appreciate it.

The door jerked slightly before opening wider. A little head peeked out to look at him curiously.

Oh she was just the cutest. Clearly exhausted but adorable. With such long hair.

His fingers twitched. Maybe she’d let him braid it. Geralt so rarely let him braid his hair. He loved braiding hair. He could give her pigtail braids or segment it or do a bunch of small ones and weave them together or-

Focus Jaskier.

He bowed at the waist raising his face once he was at the lowest point to meet her eyes. “Might you permit us entrance fair lady?”

He wanted to call her princess. But they were in the hall and that might be dangerous, even if they were quite far north. Better to play it safe for now.

He really wanted to keep her safe.

She stepped halfway out the door and stood up straight in all her royal glory. “You may.”

Her face twitched into a smile. Amusement glittering in her blue eyes.

Fuck he loved her. 

“Come on!” She said pushing the door wider and slipping back inside.

He straightened up, a truly difficult task for him, and caught a flash of Geralt’s face as he followed her inside.

It was so soft. So warm.

His chest squeezed so tight he wasn’t sure he’d ever breathe again. He nearly folded over with it.

Love. That was so much love. Geralt’s for Cirilla and Jaskier’s for both of them. It was going to kill him.

He forced a steadying breathe into his lungs and stepped in closing the door behind him with a click.

Geralt had sprung for two beds. That was a rare occurrence. It had been… Why he didn’t even remember how long since they’d gotten two intentionally. Once in a while the only room left had two beds but unless Geralt was injured and needed the bed to himself they shared. Course if Geralt injured enough to need his own bed Jaskier didn’t use the other much anyway.

Geralt sat down on the bed closer to the door. Jaskier looked between him and the adjoining walls questioningly. Geralt gave a curt hand wave.

Empty then. Some of the tension drained from his shoulders. 

Cirilla was studying him. Her posture loudly declaring a noble birth. He’d have to ease that out of her. It would make a target of her in most places. No need for her to learn that lesson the hard way.

He didn’t have much to teach her. But he could teach her that. The art of blending in.

Being a bard was one way of blending in, by standing out. Match expectations well enough and people rarely bothered looking past the surface. He’d teach her different ways of blending in. She probably didn’t care about music like that anyway. Girls her age wanted swords not lutes.

Geralt would be more than happy to provide that.

“Your highness,” He swept into his most formal bow with bardic flourish. “I am Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove better known as Jaskier. Longtime companion of the white wolf, Geralt of Rivia, and humble bard.” 

Geralt snorted.

He smacked him. “Oh hush you.”

She glanced at Geralt, asking for permission. He nodded with a small smile.

Massive monster hunters should not be allowed to look so gentle. It was unfair. His heart could only take so much.

“I am Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, the lion cub of Cintra.” She offered her hand to him. The picture of nobility. “You may call me Ciri.” He caught a flicker of unease as he knelt to peck her hand. “Or Fiona in pubic.”

Ah.

There was the little girl who’d lost her home. Her family. Traveling with a stranger to parts unknown.

He gripped her hand more firmly spinning her as he stood leading her into a quickstep. “Well Ciri I hope you will allow me to regale you with all the best and worst tales of the white wolf.” He took advantage of her stunned delight to twirl her. He swept her around the room as he continued. 

“For I know all his tales.” He crouched slightly and lifted her around. He beamed at her little giggles.

Tales. At the end of this one perhaps he’d have a tale about the white wolf’s tail. Geralt would hate that. He always hated at his puns.

“Not all of them.” Geralt rumbled from the bed.

“All the important ones.” He rebuffed. Ciri lifted her arm to spin him. What a dear. It was so unfair that only ladies ever got to spin. He ducked under her arm and twirled.

“Like what?”

“Why I could tell you of the town’s he’s reclaimed or the terrifying beasts he’s slayed or the brave knight he saved.” He led her out of one last twirl and her feet slowed to a stop.

“The knight?” She asked hesitantly.

He smiled guiding her to sit on the other bed. “Ah yes I remember it like it was yesterday. Although I suppose it must have been, oh, thirteen years ago?”

Geralt grunted.

“Yes. I suppose I would be more like fourteen years at this point. Stunning contribution Geralt.” He pranced over to the chair she’d used to block the door and spun it around to sit. “Geralt and I were attending the betrothal ceremony of a noble family I believe you know quite well Ciri.”

She leaned forward. How many stories did she have of her parents? How many did Calanthe manage to tell of her dead daughter and the man who’d bound her granddaughter to another?

Not very many he imagined. He had even fewer.

He wished Calanthe had let him play for her. Perhaps then she wouldn’t be so alone now.

He could offer her this story though.

Geralt pulled out his ‘silver’ sword to sharpen as he recounted the tale. Making corrections when his tale deviated too far. 

She looked thrilled when the story concluded. Then an uncertain darkness marred her continence. 

Ah he knew this question was coming.

“Why didn’t you come back?” She asked Geralt.

Geralt sat there. Hands frozen on his blade.

“The path is no place for a child Ciri.” He said. Her eyes turned back to him. “You had a family that loved you and could keep you safe. We wouldn’t have taken that from you.”

We. Damnit. Not We. Never we.

“You could have at least visited!” She exclaimed snapping back to Geralt. 

Geralt’s face contorted. 

He hummed plucking a few strings. He’d taken his lute out at some point during the story to occupy his hands. “I played your first name day.” They both looked at him. “Unfortunately even if you could remember it you wouldn’t have heard me as I was in the dungeons. After I was released they made it rather clear what would happen should I attempt to return.”

“Geralt received a similar greeting I understand.” Geralt’s gaze slid to the floor.

“So I apologize for not visiting. If I’d been allowed I assure you I would have.”

Geralt wouldn’t have visited her. But he would have. For both of them. To some degree their binding was due to him. He wanted to connect them.

He’d written her a dozen songs at least. Lullabies set to the slow rhythm of Geralt’s heartbeat. Dancing songs inspired by the way he fought. Ballads about his kindness, devotion, love.

He’d brought her a proper present too that first year. Tucked it in his lute case and hoped for a chance to give it to her.

In the end he’d given it to one of the guards who’d escorted him out. Asked them to get it to her.

It had probably been tossed or given to one of their children instead. He knew how it was. Some bard tossed in the dungeon and escorted out on threat of death? No way they gave it to her.

Plus she probably had countless other presents that were far nicer, even if it had somehow gotten to her. She wouldn’t remember it.

But he wanted to know.

“I don’t suppose you had a brown stuffed horse, about yae big?” He set his lute on his lap and indicated a roughly bread loaf size. He focused on the flowers of his lute.

“With a white stripe on his face?”

He looked up. “You got it?

She nodded.

“Did you name him?” She looked away. “It’s aright if you didn’t. I’m just glad it got to you at all.”

“Kelpie.” She mumbled.

He beamed. “A much better name than Roach.”

“Roach is a good name.”

“I thought you named her after the bug for almost a decade!”

“Not my fault you don’t know fish.”

“Why would you name a horse after a fish!”

“Thought you knew all my important stories.”

“You sir are incorrigible.” It was dark out he noticed. Geralt had lit the candles at some point. “It’s gotten late. We should check on our companions.”

Geralt glared at him. “You’re not bringing that thing in here.”

He stood up. “He saved my life last night. Don’t be rude.”

“Who?” Ciri chirped.

He offered her his hand which she gleefully accepted. Geralt growled. “I told you my dear. I’m the white wolf’s companion.” He pulled her out of the room sharing a grin. Geralt stomped after them.

He swung open the side door. Very close to the room. That was very helpful. And comforting. He’d been caught in more than one inn fire. People really did need to be more careful with their candles.

“Geralt!” He called into the darkness. He let Ciri’s hand go, stepping forward. Geralt put his hand on her shoulder. “Get your fluffy butt over here you great lout!”

“You have to call him something else.” They said.

“I will not.” He declared as he caught Geralt’s eyes glinting in the darkness. He stepped towards him waving dramatically over his shoulder. “If you wanted to be Geralt human Geralt then you should have found me first. You’ve no one to blame but yourself I’m afraid.”

He heard Ciri gasp as Geralt stepped into her range of vision. Human Geralt called out to him as he reached down and sunk his hand into Geralt’s thick fur. “Manage to find something for dinner? You’re always such a grump when you’re hungry.”

He huffed an affirmation.

“Well that’s good. Remember to be nice, I’ll not tolerate any of your silly growling around Ciri.” He snuck in one more pet between his ears before taking several steps back towards the inn. Geralt followed staying slightly behind. He was doing a remarkable job of shrinking his massive form. A skill he only ever displayed for children.

She was regarding both of them with curiosity and suspicion. Fair.

“Ciri, allow me to introduce to you my companion.” Geralt shoved him. “In this exact instance I believe you are without a doubt my companion Geralt, not the other way round. Leave off.” 

He looked back to Ciri and swept into a bow. Was that his third bow of the night? It was almost like being back at court. “My companion, Geralt the white wolf.”

“You named your dog after Geralt?” She asked. 

Geralt let out half a growl before collapsing it into a huff. He ran his thumb over the tense lines on his forehead in thanks.

“Hmm. Well after last Geralt and I parted ways I’d not thought we’d met again.” Ciri shot Geralt a questioning look. Their face twitched. “This seemed a reasonable way to maintain my brand. Although we’ve not quite worked out how to convince townsfolk he’s no harm.”

“He is dangerous.”

“Psh. Never been safer. Would you be willing to act as our audience Ciri? If we can convince you perhaps there is a chance we’ll be able to convince them.” He gestured to the town, his sweeping motion capturing Geralt in its wave.

Ciri quickly nodded. ‘Human’ Geralt squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head minutely.

“Wonderful! Alright Geralt. Since I have you at my mercy now what terribly embarrassing things shall I request of you? Hmm? Sit?”

Geralt, who was already sitting, stared at him unimpressed. Ciri let out half a giggle. Geralt’s eyes snapped to her, wide and astounded. Both of them. His tail began to wag.

“Well. Seems I’ve found the perfect motivation to keep you obedient. Shake!” He stuck his hand out to hold Geralt’s paw.

He looked at it. Stood up and shook like a wet dog. He wasn’t wet, thankfully, but still.

“Smartass.” He said to Geralt’s smug face.

He rumbled proudly.

“You know if you gave me both your paws I bet we could dance. Don’t you want to dance Geralt?”

Geralt lifted his lips to show off his teeth.

“Right you only dance with monsters and witches, how could I forget? Ciri dances with me at least. She was even kind enough to twirl me. Oh! That’s something you could do! Spin Geralt. Spin.”

Geralt’s patience with him was clearly fraying but he slowly turned in a circle all the same.

“Lay down?” Ciri requested, still held firmly in place by Geralt’s hand. She was leaning forward. Entranced by the giant fluffy wolf. Jaskier couldn’t blame her. He had listened to Geralt kill two people and still reached out to pet him. He was very petable. In either form if he was honest. But especially this one.

Geralt turned towards her eyes wide. His tail started wagging again. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. The big scary wolf was just a cuddly puppy for his daughter. Not that he could blame Geralt for that. She was adorable.

He gently lowered himself down facing her. Ciri tried to take a step towards him. Geralt’s hand tightened on her shoulder. She glanced up at him.

She hadn’t known Geralt very long at all. So Jaskier doubted she could make out the terror written on his face. But he had no problem seeing it.

“It understands.” He whispered.

He searched their face for deception. Some note that this was a trick. Obviously he understood. He wouldn’t have believed some random dog was Geralt. He couldn’t find any hint of it though. It really didn’t seem like they knew.

No mage had arrived to take them out yet either. They’d not had a chance to contact anyone really but.

He knelt down next to Geralt’s side. “Head in my lap. Human Geralt is concerned about your teeth but If I’m not mistaken Ciri would very much like a chance to pet you.” He turned to addressed Ciri. “It feels like a dream. Once you get over the onion and wolf musk. But you’ve been traveling with Geralt so I’m sure you’re well acquainted with both by now.” 

Geralt glanced between them before shuffling over to lay his head in his lap. He turned onto his side, back to Ciri letting his legs stretch out onto the grass. He couldn’t leap up and attack her like this. Not before Geralt could react anyway.

He pet him, soothing the tension of being in such a vulnerable position. He’d protect Geralt. He would.

“Was Torque the first person to attack me in the valley of flowers?” He asked in a low voice.

His ears folded back and he shook his head slightly. He looked up at Geralt whose grip had weakened enough for Ciri to slip away. She sunk her hands surprisingly deep into his fur. 

Geralt asked something. He could see his lips moving minutely but couldn’t hear the near silent words. He missed too much of it around Ciri’s cooing and Geralt’s tail thumping.  
The wolf nodded. He nodded at Geralt in case they had missed the small motion.

Geralt was pale and confounded. “What the fuck?”

Ciri beamed back at him with a joy only children who’d caught their parents swearing could muster.

“I told you. Among other things.” He whispered to them. Him? Could a Doppler truly be such an accurate Geralt?

Could he really judge? After all that time he’d thought- it didn’t matter what he’d thought. He wasn’t as good a judge of Geralt as he’d once believed so it didn’t matter what he thought. The mountain had proved that. Or it had confirmed it. Confirmed what that little voice had always said.

Geralt does not love you. He does not like you. You were a burden and a curse that he could not be rid of because you refused to listen when he told you the truth. Shut up. Leave. You are not a worthy companion, much less anything else. He would never want that from you. He doesn’t want you at all.

Geralt needed him now. That didn’t mean he wanted him. Just that he was the only option.

Geralt’s eyes flickered to him, worried. Ciri leaned down and embraced him. He tensed and sent him a panicked look.

“Calm down you don’t even have to worry about what to do with your arms. Just enjoy the affection. Melitele knows you don’t get enough.” He stroked him reassuringly. “You’re doing great.” He promised.

He closed his eyes and relaxed a smidge. It counted as a victory.

Geralt was kneeling next to them now. Sniffing intently. He shoved him. He glared back.

“Can he come inside?” Ciri piped up from where she’d buried herself in his fur. 

“Yes Geralt can he?” They’d already won this argument. Ciri had asked. So they'd won. He couldn’t keep the smugness of victory from his voice.

Geralt attempted to glare him into submission one last time. It had never worked. He wasn’t sure why Geralt continued to try it. He wrangled his face into a pleading gaze.

He sighed. Ciri turned her head so she could look up at him pleadingly too. What a blessing she was.

He closed his eyes. They’d won. He grinned their victory at Ciri. She smiled.

“He causes any problems at all and he’s gone.”

He smiled. Geralt huffed.

“Well with that settled let's retire for the night shall we? Because I am exhausted and long for nothing more than an actual bed with blankets.”

“Thought you wanted to check on Roach.” Geralt goaded stepping back to the inn. They slowly untangled themselves to follow.

He did want to check on Roach. But bringing a wolf into the stables was a terrible idea, even if Roach was able to recognize Geralt any other horse there would panic. Going to the stables with just Geralt would mean trusting the wolf with Ciri. Which he wasn’t willing to do either. He could go alone but that would leave both the Geralt’s together and that sounded a quick road to a fight.

He yawned. Ciri joined him. “In the morning perhaps.”

Geralt grunted, opening the side door and surveying it for any other guests. After a moment he covered the short distance to the room and opened it for them to hurry into.  
He let Ciri and Geralt slip in first. He paused at the door.

He reached out and squeezed Geralt’s arm. “Thank you.”

He slipped in and Geralt closed the door behind them.

Ciri was already one leg into the bed when she paused and looked between them and the other bed. “Um?”

“Geralt and I will share.” He reassured. Geralt had bothered to pay for a second bed. He didn’t think she wanted to share. 

Geralt had made that assumption about him as well long ago, which had been wholly mistaken, but she’d probably appreciate it. If she needed Geralt during the night he’d completely understand. But best to give her the space she was likely used to and missed.

“Wolf sleeps on the floor.”

Geralt huffed in agreement. He shucked his doublet and shoes and climbed into the bed. It groaned ominously as Geralt settled behind him but didn’t give.

Neither of them were small men but even with their, frankly disappointing, evening routine they’d broken more than a few beds over the decades. Rotten wood and poorly built joints had started more than their fair share of rumors about the two of them.

He’d liked those rumors. He’d hoped one day they might be true. Even just once as nothing more than a drunken mistake. That just once Geralt might have seen something he liked.

He knew better now. Twenty years was plenty of time to never make that kind of mistake. Which meant it wasn’t something he ever wanted. It wasn’t a matter of inhibitions, it was a matter of desire and Geralt held none for him.

Besides. It would have been wrong of him to take advantage of Geralt like that, even if he was wasted too. Because he dreamed of it. It would have been premeditated. He’d made sure not to ever be too drunk to forget that. At least not when Geralt was around.

When they were apart he was happy to forget all of it. Fall madly in love with whoever was in front of him and forget completely the man who’d never felt for him at all.

Geralt’s arm settled over his side and his chest warmed his back. He tucked his head against the back of his neck as always, casting igni to snuff out the last candle in the room.

Wolf Geralt had walked around to his side of the bed, those reflective eyes considering him. He put his hand against his chest. Pressed the medallion into him. The wolf laid down with a nod.

Geralt nosed deeper into the hair on his neck. His breathing settled into sleep far quicker than normal.

They really didn’t see him as a threat at all did they? Hell, even if it was Geralt he shouldn’t have fallen asleep that fast. There was a damn wolf in the room! An intelligent and murder capable wolf! In the same room as his daughter!

If it wasn’t Geralt they were pretty damn confident that none of them would hurt him in the night. Could hurt him.

He fidgeted with the lace of his shirt.

He could pull the medallion out now. With the few seconds sleep would buy him he could probably kill a Doppler. Or he’d know they were real and this whole mess would be sorted.

But if he was a Doppler what would knowing get them?

They’d have a dead Doppler. He’d scream drawing the attention of the inn. They’d have to leave and whoever they were working for would know. Hell even if he could keep them quiet as he killed them, which he doubted, leaving in the morning without Geralt would be more than enough of a red flag.

Ciri shuffled on her bed.

It would draw the enemy right to them and he couldn’t fight. Not a mage or an army. He couldn’t keep _himself_ safe on the road apparently. He couldn’t protect Ciri too. A wolf, even one with Geralt piloting it, could only do so much.

But he couldn’t just do a little test either. The pain would definitely wake the Doppler and he’d know the gig was up. He’d be dead on the side of the road by the end of the week at best. It was all or nothing. Trust them or kill them.

A floorboard creaked under Ciri as she stood moving towards them.

He thought of the other Doppler. How he’d agreed to help him rescue Geralt. How many of his kidnappers had eventually decided to let him go. Not all of them. But enough. 

If the Doppler assumed he trusted them that would buy them time. Time to convince them to help him. Learn about who had sent them and why. What could be done to stop them.

Ciri had a dagger in her little hands. Silver, he assumed. He laid the arm that had been playing with his lace palm down, so he couldn’t grab her. Geralt’s uncovered hand was draped over his torso. She had plenty of access.

She pressed the flat end against the back of his hand. Then Geralt’s. 

Her eyes flickered nervously between the blade and them when she withdrew.

“Ciri.” He offered his hand to her. She took it. “I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell. I would know him blind by the way his feet hit the ground and his breath left his chest. I promise it’s him.”

He believed that once. He’d written it after a monster had indeed blinded him. He’d recognized Geralt walking up to their room. Found him the crowded inn’s bar they’d stayed at while he healed. Been comforted by his stench when he panicked because he couldn’t see.

He’d really believed it too, after that first Doppler. He didn’t anymore. But she needed to. She needed to be able to trust Geralt.

“You said-”

He squeezed her hand cutting her off. “I tested him. I promise. It’s him.”

She surveyed him in the dark room, lit only by the faint starlight filtered through a clouded window pane.

Geralt stood and pressed his furry form into her side. She leaned into him stroking his fur. He gently nudged her back to bed.

He pulled the blankets back over her. Laid his head next to her on the bed so she could keep petting him until finally her hand stilled, falling into slumber.

He turned back to Jaskier. Trying to hold a conversation without words.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t do it right now. This day had been endless and he was so tired. He couldn’t trust either Geralt and yet he also had to trust both of them to keep the other in check. To keep Ciri safe. Because he couldn’t do shit.

If the wolf was real he needed all the help he could get against the hidden enemy. Forces powerful and unknown who wanted Ciri. Wanted Ciri to come to them willingly. Why else go to all this trouble?

If the human was real _he_ needed all the help he could get.

It would be better for everyone if the human was real. If he just met a wolf that had grown up next to some mage tower and became sentient or something. It would be better for everyone. Ciri would still have her Father. She’d have a wolf to cuddle and keep her warm. Geralt would love him.

Except he didn’t. He never had. And the next time they saw Yennifer he’d remember what love really felt like. Realize he’d only been lonely. That Jaskier had just been a warm willing body to press into at night. That he never loved him at all.

Fuck, he’d asked Geralt to go to the coast with him and he’d gone to her instead. Then Yennifer had walked away from him. And now. Now he loved Jaskier? Right. Sure. Twenty two years without so much as a drunken kiss and now he loved Jaskier. Right.

He’d walk down the mountain alone again. Because even the wolf loved Ciri more than him. Not that he could blame him for that. She was perfect and he was Jaskier. But he’d be alone again. 

He would be all alone again.

How many more mountains would he have to walk down alone before he finally learned his lesson?

The wolf set its head next to him on the mattress. Exhaling hot foul dog breath onto his face.

He pet his head, stroking the short soft hair between his eyes with his thumb.

It would be better for everyone if the wolf was fake. 

Everyone but him.

“I hope you’re real.” He said without sound. 

Those gold eyes promised he was. He closed his eyes and tried to believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience and lovely comments everyone! Next time we're going to get to meet the keeper of the braincell (Roach) and get her opinion on this situation. And also several other things will happen. We'll see. Jaskier is being exceptionally verbose. I wasn't expecting this section to be nearly this long but well. Jaskier is Jaskier. What can you do?
> 
> Also! The horse stuffed animal was Very heavily inspired by Vands88 fic 500 Crowns which is absolutely amazing and you should all go read!!! May it tide you over while i get the next chapter together! Stay safe!


	4. Free falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo! After three weeks i present to you 7k more of this story! Sorry had to write some Fluff before I could emotionally handle this chapter. Have fun!!!! Hope its worth the wait!
> 
> Also heads up- there is discussion of a time Geralt was drugged and locked up in this chapter. Jaskier expresses some concern (although not explicitly) that Geralt may have been assaulted. He wasn't and this is cleared up but please take care of yourselves if that's going to be triggering for you!

Geralt shook him awake with the first strands of light. “-before the rest of the guests wake up.” He muttered into his hair.

“Five more minutes.” He plead pushing back into Geralt’s warm frame. Hard muscle hiding his warm and soft heart. Strong arms holding him. Safe.

He was happy right here. Five more decades wouldn’t be enough. Geralt was behind him and they were both safe and warm and comfortable.

He sunk back into a sleep far deeper than the one he’d woken from.

Something warm and wet swiped across his hand.

He jolted back, head smashing into a hard surface behind him. The surface yelped.

He sat up. His vision darkened slightly at the edges as blood rushed from his head.

Geralt was cradling his nose.

“Oh fuck I’m sorry. Are you alright?” He reached for Geralt.

Caught white fur behind him.

Not safe.

Wasn’t safe.

Isn’t safe.

He forced his hand to continue to towards them. They brushed it away. “It’s fine.” It hadn’t started bleeding at least. “Need to get the wolf out of here before people start waking up.”

He pulled his hand back, sickeningly grateful that he didn’t have to touch them more. He turned to the wolf.

He should reach out to him too. Show that he knew they were still on the same side. He forced his hand forward towards those razor teeth that could end his whole career in a moment.

They pulled away. Gold eyes screaming betrayal. 

“Sorry.” He whispered pressing his shaking hands against the medallion tucked over his chest.

The wolf gave him a look too complicated to parse while trying to slow his rapid heart and went to sit by the door in silence.

They reached out to him but stopped before touching. “It’s fine. Should.” He hesitated. “I take him outside?”

Bad idea. Leaving the two of them together. They could snap his neck, leave him in the woods and Jaskier would be none the wiser for hours at _least_.

Not that there were good options. Leave Ciri with the maybe Doppler? Try to play off a wolf in their room? Leave Ciri _alone_? 

He shook his head, grabbed his doublet and went for the door. “Is the coast clear?” He asked them.

The coast. 

The hollow thing in his chest grew wider, not unlike a monster opening its jaws before it consumed you.

They both nodded. He opened the door and ushered them outside. He would not be consumed. He still had things to do.

He crouched in front of Geralt tucking his hands under his armpits and hugging himself to keep out the morning chill. “Okay game plan.”

He blinked at Jaskier.

“Shut the fuck up I’m doing my best here Geralt. If you turn out to be a lying ass I’ll sell you to the least reputable mage I can find for your pelt got it?” 

He grumbled a sigh and shook his head slightly.

“No. No I wouldn’t.” He looked away. He wouldn’t do that to _Valdo_. No one deserved to suffer what those mages did. He sighed. “I’ll still help you if you’re not him but you have to tell me now. You have to.”

He started shaking again. Or maybe he hadn’t stopped. Either way it wasn’t from the cold.

Soft fur pressed against his forehead. His arms unwound and he buried them into the thick fur.

Geralt tolerated hugs from him only when Jaskier was desperate. Terrified. He didn’t push away or growl.

Guess he was.

“Are you someone else?” 

The soft fur moved left and right against him.

He pulled back and looked into his eyes. “Last chance. Are you Geralt?”

Geralt locked eyes with him and nodded.

“Really?” His face was doing an ugly thing. Half smiling, half frowning, all scrunched. 

Geralt head-butted his shoulder lightly with a wuff.

He tucked himself into Geralt’s side and tried very hard to believe him.

After a, frankly generous, amount of time Geralt shoved his nose into his neck pushing him off.

“Yeah right okay.” He stood to pace, sorting his hair out. “Game plan. Game plan. Uh. Get out of town. Meet back up. Hope the mage hasn’t found and replaced you with a Doppler in the meantime, please be careful, and uh.”

He turned to look at Geralt. Geralt made the plans. The plans Jaskier made just jumped them from the frying pan to the fire.

He always needed someone to pull him from the pyre.

Phantom flames licked at his back as Geralt stared at him. Unable to communicate meaningfully. 

Prove yourself a worthy travel companion.

He turned away and held his chin. “We can’t fight. We won’t win. We need to convince them to help us instead of whoever they work for.”

His thumb ran over his lips. They’d kissed him so sweetly. Looked with such longing. Held their blade for Jaskier.

It could have been a trick. But there was always danger in playing roles you loved. Roles where you were loved, truly and deeply. That even when the curtain fell you wouldn’t want to stop.

He would make sure they never wanted it to stop.

“I can do that. They like Ciri. They’re interested in me. I can do it. Wouldn’t be the first person I’d made turncoat.”

Get a taste of what he wanted. A Geralt who loved him. Mirage or not, his heart couldn’t tell the difference.

It’d kill him. That hollow beast inside him wanted. Fed by false hopes it would grow until it swallowed him whole.

A worthy travel companion.

Ciri.

He owed Geralt the better half of his life. If this was how it ended, how it really ended, it would be worth it. One final performance. An ode to the love of his life. Even if he wasn’t even worth a chapter of Geralt’s. 

“Let him lead. Let me know if we’re actually going towards Kaer Morhen. Make sure you and Ciri stay safe and keep an eye out for tails.” He glanced at Geralt and smirked. “Aside from your own of course.”

They glared unamused. His tail betrayed him with a wag.

“Any better ideas?”

Their gaze flicked away. After a few moments he sighed and shook his head.

“Well then. Met us on the outskirts of town. Don’t get replaced. Oh! Should we make up a secret greeting so I know you haven’t been replaced?” He beamed.  
Geralt returned a flat stare.

His shoulders fell. “Right. The Doppler that replaced you would know it anyway.”

He really wanted a secret hand-paw?-shake. 

He blinked. “I should test you right now shouldn’t I? Not that it’d make much difference but.”

He nodded.

He pulled the medallion just enough for Geralt to jam his nose against it. He tucked it back in.

“Great. Well maybe we’ll run into a Spector today and I’ll actually get proof this things real. Great. Now I’m questioning if it’s real too. Sorry. Not trusting is exhausting. No wonder you’re always so miserable.” He buried his face in his hands and allowed himself three long breaths.

Geralt was looking at him sadly when he collected himself.

“None of that now. As little as you believe in my abilities this is my expertise. Acting. Loving you. It’s the role I was born to play.” He ran his hand down his spine. “Trust me to succeed in that at very least. I’m not good for much else.”

He made a low noise, a growl without the bite. Scolding perhaps?

He pulled his hand away. “Curtain time. Don’t get caught by any mages.”

He turned and went back inside. Geralt made no noise maybe watching him, maybe just silently staking off. He didn’t turn around to check.

Trusting sometimes meant not seeing the jaws closing around your neck until they dug in. There was relief in that. You didn’t spend hours cowering, waiting for a blow that might never come.

You only suffered the wounds once.

Geralt opened the door to their room before he could knock. Nodded to Ciri, still asleep. He picked up his lute case and took a bag from Geralt’s shoulders.

He wished he couldn’t see this end coming. Just like how he hadn’t seen the mountain coming. As terrible a person as that made him. Being grateful he hadn’t seen how he'd hurt someone. Someone he loved. Someone who’d hated him in turn. 

He raised his hand in greeting to Roach as they entered the stable.

Shit shoveler or not he’d changed Geralt’s fate. He wouldn’t regret whatever part he played in connecting Ciri and Geralt. In making him The White Wolf instead of The Butcher.

Jury was still out on Yennifer. Each time they collided they broke parts off the other. Hurt each other.

Maybe one day they’d figure out how not to.

“Did you miss me Roach?” He asked rubbing down her stripe. She huffed and turned to Geralt. Shoved his shoulder.

Well that was a definite point in this Geralt’s favor. Roach trusted him. She was a better judge of character than either of them.

No wonder she’d never taken to him.

Geralt was murmuring to her so he took his leave to collect her tack.  
It was far better to go into these things blind and trusting. At least you could enjoy the freefall, whether or not someone caught you at the end.

Geralt took them from him and began saddling her. He paused after slipping on her halter so she could nibble at his shoulder.

“I miss that.” Geralt threw him a questioning look. “You said that it’s a grooming habit. A sign she likes you.”

“Hm.” 

“I miss it.” He swallowed. Turned to watch the thoroughbred in the far stall. They didn’t discuss previous Roaches very often. “ _She_ used to.”

Geralt was quiet as he tightened her girth and began attaching the saddlebags. “You always complained she messed up your clothing or hair.”

“She did.” He agreed. “But it was nice that your horse liked me at least.”

Geralt paused. “Roach likes you.”

“She did.”

“She does.”

He threw him an unimpressed glance. Geralt looked serious.

“That’s,” Not what it seemed like. “A bold claim.” He finished.

Trying to convince him that he’d been wrong both about Geralt’s feelings and Roach’s? That was a strategy.

“I trained her not to nip or push. Because you hate it.”

“She does it to you.”

He ducked his head.

“Oh. You softie.” He reached over and stroked her neck. “He’s just a big pushover for you isn’t he?” 

She nickered in agreement.

“You like me?” He asked her quietly. Not that Geralt would have any trouble hearing.

She swung her head over and huffed hot air out her nostrils onto his face. She did that a lot. He huffed right back at her.

He turned to Geralt. “See what I,” He was silenced but the small soft smile on Geralt’s face. 

“She likes you.” He repeated. Like somehow that was proof. He finished prepping Roach and stepped out of her pen. “Time to go.” He headed back inside.

“Oh? Not staying for breakfast?”

“We’ll grab something on the way out.”

“What’s the rush?”

“Winters coming.”

“Oh is _that_ how time works Geralt? Thank you. I’d never have realized.”

Geralt gave him an unamused look, one that usually meant he was, in fact, amused and opened the door.

Probably. If he hadn’t been misreading every clue the decades presented. Maybe.  
Her bed was empty.

“Fiona?” He croaked out. Geralt was burying his nose in the blankets she’d slept in. Getting her scent to track her.

How had he already fucked up so bad?

They needed her willingly. He’d been so convinced they needed her willingly. And now she was gone.

“Jaskier?” A little voice called. He spun towards it. “Is everything alright?”

There she was. Her long hair spilling out from her cap. He breathed out, relief flooding the free space.

She’d just gone to the bathroom. They’d panicked because she’d gone to the bathroom.

Embarrassing.

“Just-” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “Just fine. We’re all packed up to go if you’re ready?”

She didn’t appear to believe him but tilted her head. Geralt slumped against the doorframe. “You’re coming with us?”

Ah. “If that’s alright with you?”

Her eyes lit up before turning mischievous. “Will Geralt be joining us?”

Geralt’s brow pinched inward. “Once we’re out of town he will.” He assured her.

“You need to name him something else.” 

“Human Geralt is a hurry to depart but I smelled a bakery on the way in. How’s that sound for breakfast?” He said ignoring them and offering his hand to escort her. 

She daintily accepted grinning up at him. “I find that acceptable.”

“Wonderful.”

Geralt led Roach and waited outside while they picked up breakfast. The pastries still hot from the oven. He passed Geralt his pie when they stepped out. The stern expression melting into contentment as he bit into it.

“Told you. It’s his favorite.” He nudged Ciri. She spared him but a momentary glance, too enraptured by the rare delight on Geralt’s face.

Geralt startled slightly. Could he blush he would. He turned and began leading Roach out of town.

“So why are we in such a rush Geralt? Usually the temptation of a warm breakfast is enough to slow your pace.”

“It was warm.”

“Not really the point.”

Ciri chewed her bread watching them intently. They’d have her ride Roach later so she didn’t have to jog all day to keep up.

“Winters coming.”

“Again. Still not an answer.”

Geralt glared at him like he was being intentionally obtuse. Which he wasn’t.

“You never leave this early for Kaer Morhen Geralt. Excuse me for being confused.”

Sure, Kaer Morhen would be safer but the time skipping breakfast might buy them was unlikely to make much difference.

The cobbles of town gave way to the dirt of the path while Geralt considered his answer. 

“The pass gets difficult after the first snow. We can’t all ride Roach. So we have to move quickly.”

“How far is it?” Ciri piped up, swallowing the last of her breakfast.

“Four, maybe five days to the pass. Better part of a day to get up it.”

He did the math. Of when Geralt usually left for the winter and how much further it must be, assuming a similar pace to their normal. Then he did it again. 

“You never get there before the first snow. You don’t leave early enough.”

Geralt glanced over at him before looking away. “I can navigate it. You couldn’t. We’d get stuck at the base hoping the weather breaks. It doesn’t always.”

“So you burn through your coin at the bottom until you’re forced to give up and get back to work?”

Geralt stopped walking. Staring into the bushes. “Sometimes.” He admitted with half a shrug.

“Why not just leave earlier?” He guided Ciri out of Roach’s range. Just in case.

“I did. Some years.” None of the years _he_ could recall.

Geralt walked out onto the path. “Morning!” He called.

Geralt huffed a greeting back. 

He backed Ciri a few more steps away as he inched towards Roach. She didn’t startle or pull away as she did when faced with normal wolves or danger. Just lowered he head and sniffed him.

Bonked her head into his shoulder.

He rubbed up against her neck gratefully.

“They get along!” Ciri celebrated.

“They do!” He agreed bouncing slightly matching her enthusiasm with his own. 

It hadn’t been a guarantee by any stretch. Even if he was Geralt. Roach was still a horse with horse instincts which very much included get away from wolves.

Seemed this particular wolf was not included in that instinct.

They looked remarkably displeased by this. Not that that was a surprise. Roach raised her head and shoved them too.

“Well now that that’s sorted, Ciri would you like to start your day walking or riding?”

She gave him a slightly startled smile before chirping out “Riding!”

Startled to be asked her opinion?

Geralt helped her into the saddle. He shot both Geralts an accusing glare. They had the sense to look somewhat sheepish.

He shook his head slightly and followed them on at the more than brisk pace Geralt set.

So few days between here and Kaer Morhen. They were still heading northward towards the towering mountains. Towns would be rare here. Mages even rarer.

“Are there any mages on the way?”

Geralt must have walked this path countless times. He would know if there was one on the way, at least in years past.

“No.” 

Oh well don’t feel obligated to expand on that Geralt. _No._ Ass.

The wolf shook his head too.

Drat.

Didn’t mean one hadn’t taken up refuge in the last year but it lowered the chances considerably.

He’d keep his ears peeled all the same.

Of course a brand new mage might mean it was the one who’d transformed him to begin with. If they did find one he’d have to trust his gut about them. Not that his gut was terribly helpful with respect to mages. _‘Dangerous. Get away,’_ Was really all it ever said. Accurate but unhelpful.

“Jaskier?” Ciri nudged his shoulder with her foot. “Why do you need a mage?”

“Oh!” He fumbled with several sounds as he tried to work out a reason. 

Geralt sent him a pitying look.

Unhelpful ass he was covering their tail too!

Not that they had a tail. That was the other one.

“His lute.” He blinked at Geralt growing anxious. What was wrong with her? “He needs to renew the protection charm.”

Protection charm?

He pulled her into his arms and studied her perfect form carefully.

She _was_ perfect. Aside from the pegs. A few of those would need replacing next season. But she was unmarred. No scratches from hasty departures or bandit droppings. No warping from humid summers or swamp tours.

He hated swamps. As a general rule. Stinky, messy, cursed places that resulted in wet socks and painful laundry. But they were especially dangerous for lutes. Fragile thin wood that warped in the humidity and broke if you set them down wrong. That lasted maybe ten years with good care and an easy life.

She’d been with him two decades.

Geralt was just offering him an out. That’s all that was.

But what if it wasn’t?

He clung to her a little tighter. “Will she be okay another season?”

He couldn’t lose her too.

“She’ll be fine Jaskier.” Geralt gave him a small smile and his heart stuttered in his chest. He turned away as his cheeks heated up.

Stupid heart.

Wait no he wanted to encourage their affections. So they’d abandon their cause and work for his.

Still. Stupid heart.

“Could the druid do it? Her friend said they were in your debt for getting them that light essence from the noon wraith.”

“Ooooh! That sounds like a story!”

“Not really. Druid was sick. Needed essence for a potion. Fought a noon wraith for a contract and gave them the essence.”

“How are you still so terrible at telling stories after all these years?”

Geralt smirked. “Telling stories is your job Bard not mine.” 

He threw his hands up in the air. “And yet you complain when they’re inaccurate!”

“You describe the monsters wrong. Makes it harder for people to accurately identify them which makes contracts harder.”

“Well you barely describe them at all so sounds like that ones on you. Gift me a bestiary if it matters so much to you.”

Geralt snorted. That was. Ominous. “You’ll have plenty of bestiaries to read this winter. And none of the audience will appreciate your depiction of sirens as friendly fish women.”

He opened his mouth for a very scathing retort about the popularity of the little mermaid when Ciri kicked his shoulder lightly. Then Geralt’s less lightly.

“I asked a question.”

They exchanged several blank blinks.

“About the druid?”

Oooooh. He smacked his face feeling the fool.

Geralt glanced away briefly and shrugged. “No idea. We didn’t stick around for a demonstration.”

The wolf seemed to agree.

Well it was rather a moot point anyway. It wasn’t as if they were going to turn around, leaving Ciri alone with Geralt while they checked it out or wait around all winter to get it fixed.

The other Witchers would know how to fix it. And if they didn’t well. They’d still have options. Just had to make it there first.

“Would _you_ like to tell the story instead Ciri? Geralt’s version has left me rather bereft.”

She smiled at him and launched into the tale.

They passed the day with tales and a painfully large amount of distance covered. His feet were going to ache tomorrow. He laid down and propped them up on a log after they made camp with a groan. Watched the fire flicker as lights slowly gathered overhead.

They were still going the right way. Wolf Geralt hadn’t noticed any tails and the day had been worryingly uneventful. 

He almost wished the other shoe would just drop already. So they could get whatever this was over with. Which was dumb. The closer they got to the keep the more likely they were to run another wolf Witcher who could help them out.

But being on edge was exhausting. Which was probably what they were counting on. Wear him down. Convince him to go with their Geralt to. To. Wherever it was they wanted.

He was very tired. If the wolf hadn’t agreed with the damn pace he’d have screamed mutiny hours ago. They were going to stay at an inn tomorrow. 

Especially if Geralt wanted Ciri and him to keep up.

And then they’d have to leave _Geralt_ behind.

Fuck.

Maybe _that_ was why they’d been pushing so hard.

Course if taking them in town was the plan yesterday would have worked just fine.

He rubbed his forehead.

Geralt stepped into his view blocking the stars with his massive frame. Holding one of their cups in his hands.

“What horrible concoction are you testing on me today Geralt?” He asked taking it. It was hot. Which was very pleasant on his chilly fingers.

“Willow bark.” He sat back down. “For your headache.”

Oh.

Geralt leaned over and sniffed it once before laying back down.

“Thank you.” He said earnestly sitting up to sip it. He wasn’t a fan of the taste but it was certainly better than some of the things Geralt had made him drink over the years. His fever remedy was worse than the fever the majority of the time.

“Do you run into Doppler impersonators often?”

He was extremely grateful he’d only taken a small sip or he’d be choking on it now. Not that he hadn’t expected the question. But it was startling that she’d brought it up so quickly. He twisted to mostly face her, the fire’s dregs warming his back.

Guess she was convinced.

“I’ve only run into one that committed to the ‘I’m Geralt’ act but Dudu occasionally likes to mess with me.”

“Is that what you call it.” Geralt deadpanned.

“The man is a connoisseur of the _fine arts_. I’d not hold that against him.” 

Besides it was only the first time he didn’t know it was Dudu when they tumbled into the sheets. And Dudu had apologized the one time he turned into Geralt. A sweet but deeply uncomfortable gesture for both of them. It had resulted in a rather sour evening.

Both Geralts snorted.

“But aside from Dudu it was just the one.” He assumed. He took another sip. “Upstanding fellow once we got through introductions.”

“Sleep with them too?” They murmured more amused than anything. 

“Didn’t come up. I’m afraid I was rather occupied.” He returned shortly.

They frowned at his tone. The wolf’s ears turned to him and one golden eye considered him. Ciri tilted her head and continued stroking Geralt’s fur.

“Occupied?” Ciri prodded. 

He took a long draw of the tea to build anticipation. To buy him time to find the levity needed to tell it without getting upset.

That would serve none of them.

“I suppose I can forgive you for not knowing what I’m talking about Geralt. Do you even remember Franciszek?”

They both scowled, a low growl twisting out of them.

“I completely agree. Nasty man. Terrible noble. Very dead now. Captured Geralt and sent his oh so loyal Doppler to escort me out of town.”

“He sent the Doppler to kill you.”

“Psh. Look how well that turned out.” He waved the suggestion off. They wouldn’t have.

His back was cricking from twisting like that. He leaned back on his elbows and looked out into the aspen darkness.

“He came up to camp and greeted me. Responded to me. Had me crawling out of my skin with the oddness before a minute had passed.”

There were instances where Geralt could be chatty. Bordering on friendly. When he had a fully belly, a heavy purse, and was freshly cleaned on a warm night under the stars. Then maybe. But after a contract from a noble where they’d not even been allowed a bath or a room in town? There was no way.

He’d said they should just leave. If they were going to behave that way the guards could fight the damn thing themselves. But townsfolk were dying. Even if they were racist bastards. Which they were.

“So we chatted. Made plans. Organized a little revolt on the noble house and with their help managed to get down to the dungeons Geralt was being held in.”

Dungeon was maybe a strong term. It was just four cells. But dungeon sounded better. And little revolt maybe didn’t cover quite the scale. But he had enough people who wanted him dead without adding his richest employers to the list out of fear he’d have them deposed. 

“How long did that take you?” She sounded genuinely impressed. 

He smiled back at her. “A few hours. The people already believed he was fu-,“ He caught himself. “Screwing them over. With his trusted advisor explaining exactly how right they were, well. Riling them up wasn’t a problem.”

He took another sip. It really hadn’t been. They’d just needed a spark and they lit up like wood drenched in lighter fluid.

“Then we managed to send most of the guard on a wild goose chase with the help of the ‘captain of the guard’,” He made quotation marks around those words. “Sent the dungeon guards to escort Franciszek’s wife and child out under his orders and walked right on in.” That was probably the kindest thing ‘Franciszek’ ever did for them aside from die. She had been remarried within the year. Seemed much happier when he last saw her.

He paused. Listened to the fire crackle. They were all listening for once. He wasn’t even doing the story justice like he normally would. Playing up the drama. Acting up the clever wit they’d used to trick everyone.

“We went in and found Geralt. Wrist bound in chains to the wall and locked in. And high,” He sung jumping nearly two octaves to imply just how high he was, “As the clouds. It was _adorable_.”

It was terrifying.

He’d pulled the chains binding his wrists taunt trying to get near him. Shoved his face next to the bars leaning towards him. Given the most blissed out smile as he inhaled, eyes completely unfocused. He’d been beyond words. Just hummed and rumbled like a contented cat.

“No wonder you don’t remember the Doppler. You were so blissed out on Witcher catnip or whatever they gave you. Never seen you that mellow and I’ve seen you fall asleep in the baths before.”

Which was exactly why it was terrifying. What the fuck were they planning on doing to him like that? The Doppler said they were just going to kill him but. Why dope him before a hanging?

“It wasn’t catnip.”

“Well yes obviously. The serious muscle weakness was a rather large clue.”

When they’d gotten the door open and the chains unlocked Geralt collapsed into him. Barely supporting his own weight as Jaskier struggled to maneuver them out with two hundred pounds of unhelpful Witcher burrowing into his shoulder.

“It was a depressant mixed with a paralytic. Made it hard to move or think. But I wasn’t mellow. I know I broke a few bones on the way down.”

“When I got there you were purring like a contented kitten.”

“I-“ Geralt started in a frustrated tone before stopping. “Oh.”

“Oh? Care to share with the class your epiphany?”

“When you got there I was calm.”

“Yes that’s what I said.”

“No. They threatened you as the potion started kicking in. It’s one of the last things I remember. I must have heard you coming and” He grit his teeth. “ _Mellowed_ out.”

That.

That did make more sense. With how Geralt had rubbed his wrists to bleeding against the chains before they’d arrived. 

The warning from the guard about Geralt that had never made any sense. About how dangerous he was. Figured it was standard Witcher fear. 

Why Geralt had seemed so genuinely confused when he’d asked what they’d done to him.

“Oh.” He sighed in relief into the dregs of his tea. “That’s. Better then.”

That part of the story had always weighed on him. He’d never been sure Geralt hadn’t been hiding what had happened. But he believed him now. Nothing. Nothing aside from the obvious had happened to him. Just like he said.

“Course I wasn’t the one on the chopping block so maybe next time worry a little more about yourself!” He put the cup down and swept his hands wide falling back onto the grass. “I clearly had everything handled.”

“Clearly.”

“But you thought he was a Doppler.” Ciri stated. “At the inn.”

He shrugged. “He was remarkably apologetic about how we last parted, which was unexpected. I was merely being cautious, I’d hate for you to have been kidnapped because I wasn’t paying attention.”

She studied him for a bit before nodding. Stood and wandered off to relieve herself before bed.

“Cautious. Is that what you call trying to fight a Doppler without silver?” They said after she was out of earshot.

“I have silver.”

“Yet you refuse to use it.”

“I don’t see how it would benefit us. Either you’re a Doppler attempting to call my bluff, which it’s not, and hurting you would only force us to fight, which I would surely lose, or you are Geralt.”

“That’s why you won’t test it. Even though I told you to.”

“Because I’d definitely die? It is a decent deterrent certainly.”

“No.” Geralt leaned over him. Fluffy Geralt gave a distracted growl. “Because it might hurt me. Even if it’s not actually me.”

He could picture Geralt screaming. Dying under his hands. He’d have nightmares for the rest of his life. If he survived.

“If it meant keeping her safe I could.” 

Better to live, or die as the case may be, having tried to save her. Having tried to help.

“I know Jaskier.” The wolf had wandered away from the fire and was staring out into the darkness. They set a hand on the far side of his hip, leaning further over him. His face lit orange by the embers. “Dudu isn’t the only Doppler I’ve run into either.”

“Are you telling me a story without three rounds of drink first? What is this world coming to?”

Dopplers. Always were too friendly.

“Shut up Jaskier. I’m trying to-“ They made a frustrated grumble. The wolf disappeared into the darkness, in the direction Ciri had gone. His stomach swooped. The wolf was Geralt so it was fine. It was fine. “They turned into me after I found them. Tried to fight me. I would have killed them. I was going to.”

“You don’t kill sentient creatures for no reason.” He reminded them.

“Wearing my ugly mug seemed plenty of reason.”

He reached up and held Geralt's beautiful face in his hands. “We really need to do something about your self-loathing. Your face is wonderful. Breathtaking. I’ll spend a lifetime attempting to capture it and never succeed.”

They looked like they wanted to refute him. Make some comment on how ‘horrifyingly breathtaking’ he was. Which was rude. Twisting his words like that. Instead they leaned over further until their faces were inches apart. Moved their hand up near his shoulder. Geralt’s body covered his without the warmth of touch.

“Don’t distract me.” He began stroking Geralt’s cheek rough with stubble just to be contrary. Their eyes closed, revealing in it. “I was going to kill them and they realized that. Because they wanted to kill me too.”

“Geralt if you killed them they’d better have actually done something awful beyond wearing your face. Like murder or something.”

He shook his head slightly in his hands. “Just stealing from merchants.”

“Well that hardly seems-“ Geralt shushed him.

“Let me finish. And you wonder why I never share.”

He glared up at him. He was torn between telling him off and proving he could be silent. Being quiet was just easier on his exhausted body.

“They didn’t want to be killed. So they turned into you.”

He hadn’t heard anything from the woods in a bit. Ciri was taking a long while.

“Bold. Plenty of people want to kill me.”

“Not me.” Geralt’s hand came up and covered one of his. Big and warm. “Turned into you and I couldn’t do it. Even if they’d been a killer I don’t think I could have.”

“Well that might be a bit much Geralt. If someone was posing as me and committing murders I’d rather like you to stop them thank you very much.”

He huffed. “That’s not the point. You’re scared to test me because you might hurt me and you can’t.”

“I am more than capable of hurting you Geralt. Don’t even need silver to do it.”

“But you don’t.”

“Sometimes I do.”

“Usually I hurt you first.”

“Ah yes. And what a healthy relationship that is. Trading hurts. Play that game with Yennifer instead.” Bitterness laced his tone. He turned his face aside and dropped his free hand to his chest.

“Jaskier.” He plead.

“Maybe I want you to be a Doppler. Did you ever think of that? That maybe I’m making excuses not to test you because I want you to be the fake?”

A terrible and selfish wish.

“Why?” He asked, incredulous. 

He squeezed his eyes shut for several long seconds. “Because then maybe I get to keep you.”

“Jaskier I love you.”

“If you are a Doppler I’d believe you. And if you are Geralt I cannot.”

“Because Witchers can’t feel?” He growled, betrayal pulling him away.

“No.” He threw his arms around his neck pulling him back to him. “Because I have watched you love for almost a decade and you have never once looked at me like that. Never once have you so much as drunkenly kissed me. And yet you expect me to believe I’d be more than a temporary bed warmer in Yennifer’s absence?”

“Jaskier. I.”

“So I selfishly hope you are a Doppler. That you get us to the keep safely and the other Witchers break the curse and you spend the winter as a wolf in his place, for as much Ciri’s sake as for mine, and I hope that in the spring we walk down the mountain together. So that I might walk next to someone who loves me. Who did not bind himself to another and only professed his love to me after she abandoned him.”

Tears were escaping yet again. He was just so tired. He couldn’t stop them.

“Jaskier.” He looked so pained. Struggling with words he couldn’t find.

“Kiss me? Kiss me like he would if he loved me. So at least if you betray us and I must feel you die under me or Geralt tires of me and takes the blessing he is due that I will know what it would have felt like to be loved by you. Please.”

He tugged at Geralt’s neck begging him closer. He neared but did not touch.

“I don’t want to hurt you. Not more than I already have.”

“We cannot live a life without pain Geralt. We must simply strive to live a life worth that pain. Please?”

Geralt covered that last distance. Kissed him like a thousand apologies. Kissed him hard and desperate like a thousand drunken kisses and soft and slow like a thousand sober ones.

Kissed him like he loved him.

When Geralt pulled away so Jaskier could catch his breath he wished he’d stayed and let him drown in it instead.

“I hope you are a Doppler.” He said again. He shoved Geralt off him and stood up.

“Kiss was that bad huh?” Geralt halfheartedly joked from where he knelt in the dirt.

“No because if you’re not then you’re a fucking idiot. Ciri’s been gone way too long and the wolf went after her ages ago.”

That had them moving. “What the fuck.” They cursed as they tracked her in the darkness. “What the fuck.” He repeated over and over like a terrified mantra. He stuck close behind not wanting to lose him in the dark.

What the fuck indeed.

It was slow. Tracking in the dark. He half wondered if they should turn back and grab Cat to speed this up. 

Geralt’s head snapped up.

“She’s crying.” He took off.

He raced after him. “She’s hurt?” No no no no no no.

Why had he trusted that goddamn wolf he literally watched it kill two people ugh and now Ciri was hurt and-

“No. Sad. She’s sad crying.”

“What?” He snagged Geralt’s hand and pulled him to a stopped. He snarled at the delay.

“What do you mean she’s sad crying? She’s not hurt?” He gasped out catching his breath.

“No. She’s. Crying. Like you do sometimes. Sad.”

His ears burned at the omission. Yes sometimes he got overwhelmed and had to go and take a break. These last few days omitted it wasn’t a common occurrence but it happened. And Geralt knew. Geralt had been listening.

He’d always made sure to be out of even Geralt’s enhanced earshot. He hadn’t wanted Geralt to hear. To know how badly some of the things they saw shook him.

Because then Geralt would leave. Or if not leave then at least think less of him. Think him weak or cowardly or. Or. An unworthy travel companion.

“Not hurt? Just crying? Is she alone?”

Geralt strained, listening desperately. “The wolf’s with her.”

“Then,” He stepped forward and pressed his head between the taunt lines of his shoulders. “We shouldn’t disturb her.”

“What?”

“If she wanted either of us to comfort her do you think she’d have gone this far from camp? Even though I’m sure you’ve told her not to wander off?”

Geralt was silent.

“I’m essentially a stranger and you’re her new guardian. She doesn’t want to appear weak in front of you. And I doubt she trusts me.”

“I don’t think she’s weak. She’s been through hell. I don’t want her to be alone.”

“I’m sure. But she wants some privacy and she’s not alone. She’s probably curled up in a very fluffy wolf who literally can’t say the wrong thing unlike either of us. Let her have this Geralt.”

He could feel Geralt fighting his instincts to run to her and wrap her up in his arms. He looped his arms around his waist to hold him.

“Well go back to camp after she calms down and lay down in the bedroll. Then when she comes back you can tuck her into your side and comfort her right to sleep okay?”

“I’m terrible at this.”

He squeezed Geralt tighter.

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Will we? I can’t even figure out how to convince you I love you. I fucked us up so bad you wish I was a Doppler. How am I supposed to not fuck her up worse?” 

“Communication? Parenting books? I don’t know. We’ll figure it out. You’re not doing this alone. Even if you send me away you’re not doing this alone. You’ll have all the other wolves and your friends. It’ll be alright Geralt. You got a strong little girl. It’ll be alright.”

One of Geralt’s hands gripped his forearm. “I won’t send you away.”

He pushed his head into Geralt’s back. “Don’t.”

“We’ll go separate ways and sometimes I’ll get overwhelmed and need a break but I won’t send you away.”

“Please don’t promise me that. I might believe it.”

“I want you to believe it.”

“How many more times will you break my heart until you’re satisfied?”

“I don’t intend to break it again.” Both Geralt’s arms held his. “I like the quiet. But after. After it was terrible. Because I thought I might never hear you again.”

“Its too late for that my friend. My songs will follow you for the rest of your days.”

“They don’t sing them right.”

“Artistic license I’m afraid. The point still stands. Even if you get your blessing you can’t stop a song.”

“Like I said. You don’t need to be near me to cause me misery. Might as well have your company while you do.”

“Oh how very romantic of you Geralt.” He sunk into the warmth of his back. Sleep curling into his limbs. “I cause misery and trouble. Just what everyone wants to hear.”

“You are the most trouble. You bring countless problems with you and you always manage to find or make more.” Geralt’s hand stroked his arms where they were still wrapped around his waist. “Unfortunately, you are worth every one. And so many more.” 

He hummed distantly into Geralt’s shoulder blades. A more verbose response escaping him.

Geralt nudged him and he blinked awake. “She’s stopped.”

“Oh. Good.” He settled back into Geralt. “That’s good.’

“Don’t fall asleep again we need to go back to camp.”

“Mhmm.” The metal bits in his armor didn’t make the most comfortable pillow but they worked. He nuzzled against them trying to get comfortable.

Geralt disappeared from under him and he nearly fell forward. Except Geralt caught him. So he didn’t.

“Come on Jaskier. Back to camp.” Geralt’s hand wrapped around his wrist guiding him through the darkness.

“Right.” He agreed. His wrist was warm. He said he loved him. He wasn’t dead yet. “Can I hold your hand?”

Geralt slowed his step for a moment before releasing his wrist just enough to join their hands together.

This wasn’t real. Or it wouldn’t last. But for now all he felt was warm. Geralt pulled out the blankets at camp and laid down on the bedroll. Pulling Jaskier into his side.

“What should I say to her? Scold her for wandering off? Tell her she can be sad here? I. I don’t.” Geralt mumbled his anxieties into his hair.

“Tired.”

“I know your tired Jaskier. You fell asleep on your feet earlier.”

“She’s tired. Probably more than me. That can wait. Just. Be here. For her.”

Geralt nearly buzzed underneath him.

He tucked his head against Geralt’s chest. Geralt’s heart beat steady under his ear.

“I should be on the other side.” He murmured dragging himself around.

“You like being on the left.”

“Ciri’s spot.” He already knew the rhythm. He drew the blankets up. Geralt was still tense under him. So he started humming.

He often wondered what Geralt thought about this song. It was set far too slowly to be anything but a lullaby. He’d never sung the words either, no matter how many times he’d used it to lull Geralt to slumber. Because while he’d only ever sang it while pressed up to the metronome Geralt’s heart made it wasn’t Geralt’s song. It was Ciri’s.

This song was Ciri’s.

Geralt relaxed under him and shortly after their companions padded into camp. They paused at the already crowded bedroll. He lifted the blanket for her.

She hesitated. Geralt nudged her forward. She crawled in and stiffly laid down.

He half sang the words now. Tapped Geralt’s chest lightly. _You can use him as a pillow_ he tried to tell her demonstrating as the wolf tucked himself into the crook of her knees. She shifted trying it.

She tensed. Then her brow furrowed. He hummed on.

She watched his hand mirroring the slow pace of Geralt’s heart. Kingdoms rose and fell in the spaces between those beats.

Her eyes drooped closed and the tension melted from her tiny frame.

Geralt’s arm shifted to hold her closer once she was asleep. He kept humming, pushing through exhaustion, until Geralt eased into slumber.

Only then did he let his voice fade out. Geralt owed him so many nights in comfortable beds. He hated sleeping outside even after all these years.

The wolf’s chest raised rhythmically up and down.

He was falling and it was unlikely anyone would catch him at the bottom. Better not to see the rocks rushing to meet you. Better not to see it coming.

He could see it coming.

Yet he let himself fall into that warmth all the same.

The things he did for love. Despite all logic and reason.

He let himself fall asleep.

Hopefully he'd get to fall a little bit longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read the 'Lutes last about a decade' factoid somewhere but now i can't find the source so. Take that with a fair amount of salt. But if it's true then Jaskier's lute Is magic in canon. So. Take comfort in that whenever you read about poor lute handling!
> 
> Next chapter features rude awakenings and Hard climbs (if everything goes to plan looking at you Jaskier.) Thank you all so much for your support and excitement!!!


	5. Magic Mayhem

It was hard to tell the order of things.

Certainly there was pain.

His ears were near to bursting with percussive sound and his back and head were lit up in agony and his front was being flayed by the wind and all its detritus.

But really at some point it all just became pain. Pain without order or reason. Pain without sense or logic or end.

It did end.

Parts of it anyway.

The wind stopped. And the noise. Screaming. It had been screaming.

“Ciri!” He heard Geralt shout over the ringing in his ears. That was about all he could sort through at the moment. His vision spotty as he forced them open.

The aspen grove they’d settled in was no longer an aspen grove. His back and head painfully throbbed against the boulder he now rested on. Starlight flooded the new clearing. Roach was nowhere to be seen.

In the center was Geralt. Silver haired and clutching Ciri as if the world was ending.

Maybe it was. He reached up and gingerly touched the back of his head. Not bleeding. Concussed? Maybe. What did Geralt always ask after he hit his head?

Name? Jaskier. Julian. Bard. Viscount.

When were you born? No one’s goddamn business. He was twenty five. That always seemed like a good age. He’d liked being twenty five. So what if he’d been twenty five for more than a decade?

Do you remember where you are? A clearing that was once an aspen grove that had doubled as their camp for the night. With Ciri and Geralt and Geralt.

Yeah he probably wasn’t concussed. Or not too concussed at least. Even if he was counting double Geralts.

The wolf limped across the clearing sniffing at the huddled ball of Geralt and Ciri before looking around.

Had they been attacked? Usually Geralt had the sense to wake him up a little more gently so he could actually run away. Not throw him away with a blast of Aard.

Aard couldn’t do this.

He forced himself up. A mage. This had to be chaos. Fucking powerful Chaos. They had to leave. Before the mage got back up. Before the mage decided to turn them all into animals like the sadistic prick they were.

The world spun and he was rapidly reintroduced to the splintered earth.

They didn’t have fucking time for this. He forced his hands under him and tried to force himself back up.

The wolf was there. Sniffing him. Nosing at him.

“I’m fine.” He tried as his arms gave out under him again. “I. I need a minute.” He shoved his elbow under him to leverage himself up. They might not have a minute.

Geralt was still balled up around Ciri. Sobbing. She was sobbing. The ringing faded enough he could hear that.

“The mage. Can you find them?” He begged him. Geralt was occupied. Their senses were better than his but easily distractible. Last night proved that. Upset Ciri might have taken priority over finishing off the threat.

Geralt shoved his neck under his arms helping him sit up. No darkness marred his face. White. Still white. He hadn’t killed the mage either.

Fucking useless assholes.

“The mage Geralt. We’ve got to make sure they’re dead.” Using the rock and Geralt he forced himself onto shaky legs.

They knew _Geralt_ had betrayed them. Was betraying them. Fuck.

He’d finish them off if he had to.

Geralt growled and shook his head.

“What?” He hissed forcing himself back on the rock entirely. He couldn’t be serious. “She is dangerous. Don’t give me some shit about how pretty she is. She attacked us. Did this.”

Geralt growled louder and bore his teeth at him.

“No!” He tried to smack their nose but his balance shifted and he merely cuffed his ear. He gripped the rock to stay upright. “We will find a different mage to fix you! This one has to go!”

The growls tapered off as he looked around. Starlight or no he couldn’t make out another person among the debris. No soldiers? If there had been any they weren’t obvious. Certainly not a squadron at least.

He couldn’t find her. Not alone. Not like this.

Fuck how would he even kill her? He didn’t have the dagger. It was still in the grass behind that awful inn that started this whole goddamn mess.

His stomach rolled.

Killing.

Geralt.

Ciri.

“Please.” He sobbed reaching out for him. “Please Geralt.”

There was warm fur under his hand. Golden eyes watching him.

“The mage. Please. I have to keep them safe.” He looked up at them. Geralt was speaking to her. He couldn’t hear more than the low din of his voice and the slowing sobs of Ciri’s. “Please.”

He saw him nod out of the edges of his vision. They limped forward. Fumbling over broken trees. Until they were only a few steps from Ciri and Geralt.

The wolf sat down. Looked at them. Then at him.

“The mage?” He barely whispered.

Geralt looked at Ciri and nodded.

He surveyed the near perfect circle of destruction centered at this point.

Well. Fuck.

“You’re safe. It was just a nightmare. You’re safe. I promise you’re safe.” Geralt murmured into her platinum blond hair.

At least now he knew why they needed her willingly.

He let go of Geralt and began shuffling around for his lute. Singing softly.

_Though the road is hard and the path is dark  
I know the stars above will lead you to me dear heart.  
And though the path it winds over rivers and streams   
Know I’m always with you even in your dreams._

He found her case jammed between two aspens. He yanked it free and pulled her out. The case was wrecked. She was not.

He settled against Geralt’s side and quietly played the chords. A simple melody. Repeated over and over.

He played as Ciri’s sobs settled into tired breathing.

He played as Geralt’s tight shoulders slowly relaxed.

He played as Geralt settled his furred head in his lap and Ciri reached down to pet him. As Geralt leaned his heavy frame against him. As they all drifted to the edges of sleep, even if they were all too shaken to let go.

And then he played a few more verses. Just for good measure.

He let the last chord fade out until it was covered by the returning songs of the forest. Put down his lute and looked up.

“Look at those stars. Never get a view like that at an inn.” He whispered to them. Ciri slumped over onto his lap and wrapped her arms around their fluffy friend. Geralt hummed tiredly into his shoulder.

He ran his fingers through her tangled hair. “Do you mind if I braid it?” He asked her. She shook her head against his thigh. There was no way this position was comfortable, draped over two laps, but he wouldn’t move her. She could stay as long as she wanted. His back was already going to hurt in the morning anyway.

He gently worked through the tangles, easing them out one by one. He rested his head on Geralt’s.

“If you want to talk about it,”

“I don’t.” Ciri said cutting him off.

“Then we’re happy to listen.” He continued anyway. “And if you never want to that’s okay as well. We’re all allowed stories we don’t tell.”

He looked up at the sky and didn’t let his eyes close as he eased free a few more tangles. There was no place for those stories tonight. He didn’t let himself remember them. Roach wandered back into the clearing.

“Geralt?” He dragged his fingers slowly down her hair checking to see if he’d missed any knots. Snagged on one. “What’s Kaer Morhen like?”

He worked it free as Geralt considered his answer.

“It’s. Big?”

“What’s it made of?”

“Stone. Mostly.”

“Will we have rooms? Or is it more barracks style?”

“It was. Now we have rooms.”

There was a story there. One that ached. He began braiding. Left into the middle.

“With beds?”

“Mhmm.” Right into the middle.

“And fireplaces?”

“Still gets cold. Even with them.” Left into the middle.

“Because it’s so big?”

“That and its winter in a stone keep in the mountains.” Right into the middle.

“Well.” He finished the braid. Probably should have done a more complex one but he couldn’t remember how to right now. “That just means we get to use more blankets.”

“Not sure there’s enough blankets in the keep for you. Blanket thief.”

Ciri jerked suddenly and burrowed further into his fur.

“Ciri.” Geralt rumbled. “You can sleep.”

She shook her head.

“I’ll wake you up before. Next time. I’ll stay awake.”

“You need sleep too.”

“Witchers don’t need as much sleep.” More than he’d gotten tonight, sure, but Geralt would be alright. “He’ll just meditate. If you start dreaming again he’ll wake you right up. He’s done it for me before.”

Flames licked his back.

“And I’ve got pretty impressive vocals too. Can wake an entire town. It’s a miracle Geralt isn’t deaf.”

“What?” Geralt asked cleaning his ear with a finger.

He smacked him.

“You’re safe Ciri. We’ve got you.”

For as long as it was ‘we’ they would have her. And she would still have him if she wanted him. Even if it wasn’t ‘we’. Even if it was that she had ‘Geralt’ and she had ‘Jaskier’ and they were completely separate and had little to no relation in her mind. He would love her all the same. Geralt or no.

She stayed taunt.

“Would you like to hear another song of yours?”

“Of mine?” She questioned.

“They’re your songs. I wrote them for you.” Geralt lifted his head and he tucked himself into his shoulder. His everything would hurt tomorrow. He ran a hand through Geralt’s fur. “Even if you never hear some of them because you’re far too old, they’re still your songs.”

“Like what?”

“If I tell you, you must promise not the judge me for it. One of my, uh, winter friends has several children and it rather caught on and I’m perfectly happy leaving it off my resume.”

Geralt groaned. “Is it that bad?”

“It’s. It’s just a children’s song. Not my usually level of class is all.”

Both Geralts snorted. They were lucky he was too tired to bother smacking them.

“Can I hear it?”

“If you insist.”

_The ants go marching one by one hurrah. Hurrah.  
The ants go marching one by one hurrah. Hurrah.  
The ants go marching one by one the little one stops to suck her thumb  
And they all go marching down. To the ground. To get out of the rain.  
Do do do.  
_  
Ciri let out a breathy little laugh. So he kept going.

_The ants go marching two by two hurrah. Hurrah.  
The ants go marching two by two hurrah. Hurrah.  
The ants go marching two by two the little one stops to tie her shoe  
And they all go marching down. To the ground. To get out of the rain.  
Do do do._

He kept singing. Trying to maintain the rhymes. He felt Ciri go heavy with sleep on his lap and he kept going just in case. His throat hurt along with everything else now but such was the way of things sometimes. Hopefully Geralt still had the tea for his voice buried in one of the saddle bags.

“Jaskier.” Geralt breathed. “You can stop.”

_And they all go marching down._

“She has magic. Like Pavetta.”

“Hm.”

“Do you still have her xenovox?”

“Mhm.”

So he had called her. Of course he had.

“Course she didn’t answer, she’s pissed at you.”

“Hm.”

“No I don’t blame her, you make terrible wishes. Mine were explicit for a reason.”

“She saved your life Jaskier.”

And stole your heart.

“Hope she likes kids.” He mumbled.

“Go to sleep Jaskier.” A hand traveled over the scars on his back to settle on his side. “I’ve got you.”

_Do you?_ He wanted to ask. _Do you really?_

Instead he let sleep pull him down.

“Alright you two. Time to go.” Geralt said a moment later.

The sun was bright in his eyes when he squinted them open. Yep. Everything still hurt. Worse than last night.

His back smarted from the ground and the rock and the back of his head was tender and his muscles ached.

He was laying on his back now. Ciri was sleeping with her head on his thigh, although he couldn’t see her under the blanket Geralt had thrown over them at some point. The wolf was nosing at her through the blanket.

Well at least she wouldn’t be woken up by wet wolf slobber. He was already really tired of that wakeup call.

He stretched out listening to the joints pop and the muscles protest. Geralt offered him a breakfast bar which he took only very disappointed it wasn’t sometime more. Not like he expected more on the road. It was just disappointing.

“I can’t keep the pace of yesterday Geralt. I’m going to pass out at noon and there is very little that can be done about it.”

He frowned. Looked over at Roach.

“Her bags are full of provisions Geralt. You can’t ask her to carry me and Ciri for very long.”

The frown deepened but he nodded in agreement. The wolf pulled the blankets off him and Ciri. She curled up tighter and covered her eyes.

“An inn tonight.” He decided. “A good bed and hearty meal shall set us right and we’ll recover the distance lost with the spring in our step.”

“Hm.” Geralt dropped Ciri’s breakfast on his chest and moved to finish prepping Roach.

He lightly bounced the leg Ciri rested on. “Upsy daisy princess or you’ll find out what wolf kisses are like first hand.” He forced himself up ignoring the protests of his back. Hm. He had a few new holes to patch in this outfit after last night. “It’s very slimy and stinky and gross. I’ll personally attest that it’s a terrible way to wake up.”

She pulled her cloak over her head and ignored him.

Wolf Geralt tilted his head frustrated. Glanced at him and then her with a question in his eye.

He shook his head and took a bite. “Oh. Not half bad. They were very generous with the honey on this batch. Of course I can think of another intense wakeup call my sisters favored over dog breath.” His fingers ghosted over her sides. “Which I might be forced to employ instead. To spare you from Geralt’s morning breath.”

She didn’t move.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you princess.”

He began tickling over her sides. Which was disappointingly ineffective.

And then he found a spot right above her hip. She jerked twisting onto her back. Exposing her other side that was just as ticklish he quickly found. She shrieked with laughter, her limbs flailing as they attempted to dislodge him.

“Stop!” She shrieked. He pulled his hands away and held them in the air in surrender.

She glared at him as she caught her breath. He handed her breakfast. She snatched it her expression caught between a smile and a frown.

“Now if you’d rather,” He took a bite and chewed for a fair bit longer than necessary, “have a wet snout wake you up tomorrow instead you can. I’m honestly not sure which is worse. Dog slobber or being tickled. Your choice.”

“Or you could just get up on time.” Geralt grumbled picking up the blanket and folding it.

“What do you take me for Geralt?”

“A fool who would sleep the day away given the opportunity.” Geralt kicked his calf lightly. “Up.”

“Sleep all day, play all night. Tis the bards life Geralt.” He raised a hand for a lift. Geralt pulled him to standing. “Oh yep everything hurts. Damn I hate sleeping outdoors.”

Ciri stood up and nibbled on her breakfast.

“Thought you liked seeing the stars.” He smirked.

“I can see-“ Fuck this was in no way child appropriate. “Plenty of _stars_ in a tavern. And those are accompanied by warm meals and soft beds.” He said anyway as they started departing the destroyed aspen grove.

Eh. She’d probably heard allusions to love far more crass then that anyway. Her grandfather was from Skellige and her grandmother was a warrior.

Geralt rolled his eyes.

He spared one last look back at the clearing. Admiring and fearing the sheer destructive force of her nightmares.

They needed Yennifer. No two ways about it. She needed Yennifer.

Far more than any of them needed him.

He made it past noon before the exhausted sinking of his eyes almost had him intimately acquainted with the path. Instead he got a face full of wolf fur.

Geralt sighed glancing between him and Ciri. She’d nearly fallen off Roach several times this hour. Geralt could carry her, he supposed, and he could ride Roach. But the poor mare was carrying plenty without adding a half asleep bard to her burden.

“Geralt.” He started.

“A short break.” He acquiesced pulling Roach off the road. He helped Ciri off and passed them both something to eat.

“Mmhm.” He agreed inhaling it without tasting before curling up in the pine needles.

Distantly Geralt chuckled but he was already far too gone to wonder why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmmm you might have noticed the chapter count went up a lot (it doubled technically) cause I realized after sitting on this fic for a month and a half that i needed to do shorter chapters if I ever wanted to get this done. (This and the next 5 chapters were all supposed to all be chapter 5 so we've got several more 'rude awakenings' left) The fic hasn't actually gotten any longer but you should be getting smaller but more frequent updates! Hopefully that's alright with everyone.
> 
> Thank you for your patience with this fic. I hope it's worth the wait. Also fun fact my document for this fic is now 69 pages long. So that's fun!

**Author's Note:**

> Also feel free to come say hi on tumblr if you want. I'm abluescarfonwaston.  
> Love yall!


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